


Gemini Ecliptic

by Aletheo



Series: The Gemini Chronicles [2]
Category: CW Network RPF, Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-16
Updated: 2012-08-16
Packaged: 2017-11-12 06:13:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 96,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/487626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aletheo/pseuds/Aletheo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The battle high above the Academy brought Gemini into the public eye, but now they find themselves in the midst of a game of mystery and danger. As their abilities continue to develop at a shocking pace, new threats emerge from unexpected places. As they struggle to finally give humanity the edge in a war of extinction, shadows threaten to eclipse them and their allies, both old and new.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_When the Conservators returned to Terra one-thousand years ago, they not only found the burnt out husk of our homeworld, they found that the satellites in orbit, long dead, still housed the truth of the final moments of Terra. The media satellites held the telecast of the religious fanatics who unleashed the atomic arsenals of all nations on the planet to hasten the return of their messiah, the dawning of a “millennial kingdom.” The weather satellites recorded the fiery death of all living things upon the surface of the planet. Within 11 minutes and 6 seconds, from the first detonation to the last, the jewel of the cosmos died. All of this happened within one standard year of the last ark’s departure from the Sol system. We did not launch the weapons, but that is our legacy. We must never forget._

_— Diary excerpt from Justicar Conservator Mishuhara Ito as entrusted to Pontifex Gaius Johannsen in 2570 AT._

_________________

The great reflecting pool, the hub of the Classroom Core, perfectly mirrored the heavy clouds, ribbons of ebony visible here and there, the stars of the winter sky peeking through. The water’s surface remained untroubled, broken only by the eight “spoke” pathways of the Core, and by the scattered, giant, shattered fragments of the Spire. Great chunks of the once proud structure poked through the surface of the water like islands. Faint wisps of steam hovered above the pools, the pathways covered in centimeters of pristine snow. Two sets of footprints marred one walkway.

The prints ended at two barely visible figures, standing unmoving before what had been the foundation of the Spire. They felt the energies all around them: in the Academy’s reactors, in the induction matrix that covered the planet with invisible electricity, in the hidden sun and in the slumbering flora and fauna around them. 

It would be enough.

They opened themselves up to the currents, channeling them, changing them, marshaling it all between the two of them. They saw the broken pieces of the monument, sensed where atoms were once joined, and the imperfection of the structure. The molecular bonds of the scattered pieces loosened, and then broke free, a swarm of atomic particles swirling around the foundation. They visualized the shape, as it would become, clearly in their minds, and the particles aligned themselves to their vision. The islands in the water evaporated, becoming wisps of material, swirling upward, a phantom of the helix sextet, uniting at a sharp point far above.

In seconds, the phantoms coalesced into a new Spire. One without flaw. From foundation to apex a solid, perfect piece of twisting crystal. The Academy sensors saw nothing but a blaze of incomprehensible brightness, and were unable to capture the event. By the time the machines recovered, the figures were gone. The gently falling snow had filled the footprints, restoring the undisturbed blanket of white.

The new Spire glimmered in the faint lights of the campus, in the nearly imperceptible reflections of the falling snowflakes.

_________________

Jeffrey Dean Morgan sat quietly at the table, one hand lightly wrapped around a steaming cup of hot coffee. The other was holding a scroll which consumed his focus. He had grown so accustomed to waking early; he could no longer sleep in on the few leisure days he took. Judging by the slightly bleary faces of Misha, Samantha, Sasha, and Jager around the table, they suffered his same malady. No one spoke, which suited the Justicar fine. His third time through the item on his scroll, and he had yet to fully comprehend what he was reading.

“You are surprised?” Misha broke the sacred silence. Morgan glanced up at him, eyes unfocused as though he was unable to process the empath’s question.

“Surprised?” he finally answered. “Not particularly. I blame you for this.”

“Well, naturally,” the dark-haired man quipped. He took a long sip of his coffee, before asking “What exactly are you blaming me for this time?”

“I blame you for creating this ridiculous fixation they have for a damned building.”

“Oh,” Misha took another sip. “That. I figured you would be relieved at not having to deal with the bureaucracy around rebuilding the thing.”

“Bureaucracy I can handle,” the older man barked back. “Sneaking off in the middle of the night to a forbidden destination without asking any of their superiors? I have a problem with. Factor in the complete absence of their visit in the sensor logs, and the structural impossibility of what they built? And we are once again on the edge of a media shit storm.”

Misha’s face fell, somberness taking over his features as he took in Morgan’s tirade. He remained uncharacteristically silent. The voice to break the quiet came from the seat at the table everyone least expected.

“I don’t think you understand why they did what they did at all,” Samantha said with an icy tone. 

Everyone’s eyes widened, and she didn’t even wait for a response before continuing.

“Did you ever consider that this was an act of penance? Did it ever enter you mind that this was their atonement, their attempt to wipe away the visible scars of the attack? Did the concept that these two young men are haunted by what happened even occur to you? That they count themselves responsible for the assault? Do you go to a superior, or clue in your friends and peers when you need to perform an act of contrition?”

The barrage of questions ended, and thick tension enveloped the room. Samantha simply picked up her coffee, leaned back in her chair, and returned to her own scroll, effectively cutting out everyone else at the table. She waited for no response, and made it clear, none should be made. 

Long minutes passed. No one looked up from the glossy wood surface immediately in front of them. 

“Do you think,” Jager said just above a whisper. “Do you think they blame themselves?”

Samantha looked at him, her gaze kind. “No, Jager. I know so.”

The kinetic looked involuntarily upward, as though he could see their room from where he sat. “How do we fix this?” he asked as quietly as before.

Sasha’s broken voice answered him. “We don’t.”

Sam looked closely at Jager, noting the sheen in his eyes, the faint tremor around his lips and the barely contained grief he felt for his charges. 

“We help them cope,” she said to him. “If they need to erase all signs of the damage, we allow them that. We allow them to grieve, and give them the space in which to do it. But we always, always remain mindful of what they are going through. We prevent them from withdrawing into themselves more than they already have. Above all, we let them do what they feel they must to buy themselves peace with what happened.”

She looked directly at Jeff. “And, if it makes our lives more complicated, fine. If it creates problems we didn’t have before, we deal with them.”

It was probably the closest she had ever come to giving the Justicar an order. Despite the breach of protocol, he had absolutely no inclination to call her on it.


	2. Chapter 2

_The necessities of war set mankind back not only in terms of lives lost and resources consumed, but in colonization efforts. Nine small colonies were abandoned within five years of the first recorded battle with the silicates. The seven primary systems of the Republic once again represented the entirety of humanity. No one stopped to question the tactical wisdom of consolidating the entire population into handful of targets. Once again, we proved that fear and security would override sense. Not until much later did a voice challenge and rebuke us all. Come to think of it, a pair of voices._

_-  From “Diaspora” by Adjutant Justicar Conservator Pyter Kordera, AT 3189_

 

Jensen stirred, discomfited by something intruding on his consciousness. In moments, Jared’s eyelids fluttered, and he stared back with his sleepy, hazel eyes. They could feel a wash of emotions emanating from the other end of the house. Anger, from Jeff, an odd mix of humor and concern from Misha, a startling blast of deep worry from Jager, and then a cold fury from Samantha that reset all of the emotions from the others. Every emotion carried the “thumbprint” of the person feeling it. At this point, the imprints of their superiors were more distinct to the young men than physical appearance. 

Intuitively, they knew all of these feelings concerned them. Since the Battle of the Academy this pattern held true, and neither of them had grown comfortable with it. From the moment they stepped off the platform into the town that had become their sanctuary, things had been off.

_________________

Ouray in its full winter glory at sunset was breathtaking. That’s the first thought that entered their minds when the port materialized around them. The snow-covered mountains took on all of the hues of the sun and clouds, glowing in reds, golds and purples. They’d never seen anything like it, not even on their previous visit. 

Their attention was immediately drawn from the incredible view to one still, small woman. Loretta Divine’s hand touched her lips, her eyes almost liquid. The worry radiating off her in waves brought both young men up short. They took a few, halting steps toward her, and she descended on them like an avalanche, wrestling them both into a tight hug. She released them, holding each of their faces in her hands in turn. Her gaze broke loose from Jared’s face, focusing on something right behind them. 

The cold, raw rage that shot from her startled them both, especially when they realized the target of her wrath. The two young men parted, allowing their leader to approach his old friend. Before either of them could react, she slapped Jeffrey Dean Morgan with such force the sound echoed through the massive embarkation chamber. The Justicar’s expression only showed a slight shock at the attack, but mostly, his eyes held a sad acceptance. 

Without uttering a word, Loretta turned and walked purposefully toward the exit. Jensen and Jared called after her, but she refused to stop. They poured a level of command they never knew they possessed into calling her name again. The modulation and pitch of their voices precisely aligned to force obeisance. 

She turned and looked at them, with a mixture of surprise and anger. 

“No,” Jensen began. “You don’t get to place all of the blame for this on the Justicar.”

Her eyes widened at the imperiousness of his tone. “You will not discount the choices Jared and I made because you want to blame him,” he continued. “We made the choice, and yes, he is our superior. He could have commanded us otherwise, but he realizes something you aren’t seeing, ‘Retta.”

“To have made any other choice,” Jared said firmly, “Would have destroyed us. Do you think we could live with the knowledge that all of our friends, our classmates, the future of our race perished because we did nothing? Do you really think that is something we could live with? Could you live with it?”

As their words sank in, the play of emotions across her face required no empath to decode. After a few moments, Jensen approached her, his words softer, kinder and more entreating. 

“You know what that would have done to us. And I don’t want you to think for a moment that anything that happened in that past few months has been easy for Jeff. Look at him. I mean really look. He paid a high price for all that’s happened. He still is. We all are. But, ‘Retta, the alternative would have been so much worse.”

She put her hand on his chest, her gaze turned downward, as though she could feel his heartbeat through his utilities. The steady, strong rhythm somehow cemented for her that he was alright, alive, and standing in front of her. She slowly looked up, over Jensen’s broad shoulder, took in the face of her friend of so many years. Just as Jensen had said, the toll Jeffrey had paid was there for anyone to see. He looked older than his years. Tired in a way she could not remember him being ever before. Above all, the sad look of resignation, the complete acceptance that he had lost an old friend and ally, shook Loretta to her core. This was not the man she had known. He had been indirectly responsible for the two greatest victories in this long, damned war, but he just looked defeated. 

Her hand still rested on Jensen’s chest, and as her eyes met his, they were once again filled with the warmth these men had come to count on from this amazing woman. She lightly kissed the young man’s cheek, a silent “thank you,” before walking toward the man upon whose shoulders the fate of worlds rested. Tired, resigned eyes watched her approach, and she lifted a hand to gently soothe the redness on his cheek, where she had struck him. Her breath caught when this man she had known most of her life, turned his face ever so slightly into her open palm. She had never seen him display that level of vulnerability before. She let the caress linger for a few seconds more, composed herself, and turned to exit the building.

The three men stayed planted, until she turned around, her hands on her hips. “Are you three gonna stand there all day? Putting you lot back together is gonna take all the time I’ve got, so you better move your butts.”

With that, she once again headed toward the door. Jensen, Jared and Jeff followed.

_________________

The next day, they woke to the morning sun shining clear and bright through the window in their bedroom. They managed to get up and get ready, though frequently interrupted for an exchange of lazy, sweet kisses. When they were both dressed and through with their morning ablutions, they quietly opened the door to their room and stopped when they heard voices coming from the living area.

“They weren’t injured or wounded. The med scans were completely clear. From what we could tell, they became extremely exhausted after over-exertion of their abilities. Their bodies just shut down until they could recharge.”

“This is supposed to make me feel better?” Loretta asks.

“I’m just telling you what we know. We had every indication that if they were actually wounded their healing gift would take over and restore them.”

“Unless they were too drained and the lack of energy puts them in coma. What then, Jeff? What will you do if they over extend themselves and get injured?”

“Loretta, I don’t have all the answers,” Morgan said in a very tired sounding voice. “They will remain at the Academy, where a group of the finest people I have ever known will make certain they are okay. They will never go on a mission without my express consent, and if I have anything to say about it, they won’t go without me. I get that you are protective of them. We all are. If any of us had our way they would never see action, but this is war, and you have to accept the fact that if we hold them back when they could save thousands of lives again, we would saddle them with regret and probably resentment. They are young men, Loretta, capable, talented, brilliant young men, and you need to give them and me some damn credit. Okay?”

“Jeffrey,” she answered softly. “I know how difficult this is on you. I can see it with my own eyes. But I need you to see what this is doing to you and by extension them. None of you asked for this, but you got it, and those two young men are a precious gift. But if you sacrifice your health and well-being, you aren’t going to do anyone any good. They need you now more than ever, and you look like you are about to collapse. You let us shoulder some of that. You let us help them and you in any way that we can. That was not a request.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Now that that’s all settled,” she said, then pitched her voice much louder, “you boys can come on in now, and stop lurking in darkened hallways.”

They slunk in; bracing themselves for the tongue lashing that was no doubt coming. 

“Now wipe those hangdog expressions off your faces and for goodness sake, stand up straight.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. We are all going to the diner for breakfast, and I’ve convinced Jeffrey to stay on a couple of days, haven’t I?”

The older man looked a combination of stunned, ready to argue and poleaxed. Realizing the battle was lost, he replied “One more day. I will leave in the morning.”

This was clearly not open for discussion.

Loretta shot him a look that clearly said “We’ll see about that.” They headed out into the cold morning air making their way to breakfast. The restaurant was already busy; a mix of tourists and locals, but their table was vacant and set. They were no sooner seated than massive mugs of steaming rich coffee arrived, followed by platters and large bowls overflowing with dishes sweet and savory. Jared and Jensen couldn’t remember when they’d seen so much food, and all of it tasted amazing.

They were trying to be polite and not forget their table manners, but after Loretta laughed at them both and instructed them not to stand on ceremony and tuck in, they did and in earnest. They finally had to signal the waiters to stop bringing fresh batches of everything as soon as the serving dishes were empty. They sat back and stared at what little was left on the table, and felt so full they wondered if they would pop.

Loretta was beaming at them, quite pleased at the quantity of food her charges put away. Even Morgan ate a more than healthy portion. Their mugs of coffee got topped off moments before a complete contingent of the locals arrived to begin their interrogation. Jared and Jensen had sensed the attention and curiosity of many of their fellow diners. So far, none had approached them. The group descending on them had no such qualms. 

Ella Holloway was about to speak, when Loretta interrupted.

“I assume you are all here to greet our guests?” she said in a sweet tone that somehow managed to convey that confrontation was no longer on the menu. “They just finished eating, but I suppose they have a few minutes to chat before I send them back off for a nap. Poor things are just exhausted.”

Ella’s jaw snapped closed as her eyes scanned over the three men at the table. Whatever she saw appeared to compel her to just follow Loretta’s lead. The two cadets had no doubt they would be the topic of a very serious discussion when they headed back to the cabin. For now, the group was content to drink coffee and get all the details of the happenings of the past few months. 

The conversation was overall light and comfortable, by force of will of their hostess. Whatever mojo Loretta worked on Ella apparently extended to everyone else. No rebukes or pointed questions. Their hostess had taken her task of “putting some meat on those bones” very much to heart. They had only been sitting for an hour after they had finished eating when a basket of sweet rolls ended up on their table. Jensen and Jared refused them once, and the glare Loretta hit with them had them immediately reaching for one of the pastries. 

By the time they got away, it was approaching noon, but fortunately, Loretta never mentioned lunch. The three men would probably turn green at the mention of more food. The four walked slowly through the town. It was the maximum pace the overstuffed men could handle. 

“You know, Loretta,” Morgan said. “We are quite capable of getting to the cabin on our own.”

“I’m sure you are, but whether or not you would, let alone go straight to bed, is the problem.”

“Does this mean you are going to force feed us as soon as we wake up?” Jared asked all dimples and irresistible innocence. 

“And if I do, what are you gonna do about, stretch?”

“Probably eat,” he smiled back at her. Jensen knew that smile and how mere mortals were powerless before it. 

Loretta was apparently only half mortal, as she hurumphed and nodded, the young upstart clearly put back in his place. They shed their coats as they entered the warm cabin. 

“I’ll see you all at Ella’s in a few hours, and if you show up late, I’ll let them all have at you.” With that she was out the door.

“Where in the worlds did you find her?” Jensen asked quietly.

Morgan chuckled “You don’t find Loretta Divine. She finds you.”

_________________

Now, almost two weeks after their arrival, some things had settled, but others remained strained and difficult. They lay in bed, just looking at each other. Soaking up the tranquility they could create when they got the opportunity to shut out the rest of the worlds. In short order, both of their families would arrive. The mix of emotions that accompanied that thought gave them pause. 

Neither of them could wait to see their loved ones, but at the same time, their arrival would bring a flurry of questions and tension the two adepts were not looking forward to. Their families hadn’t had the time or even the exposure to the two of them as they had become, the changes the past few months had wrought on Jensen and Jared, and the very different young men they now were. How does anyone go about explaining to parents that their son is now inextricably intertwined with another man and separation simply wasn’t an option? 

Neither of them had been exposed to their families for an extended period of time since the term began, what felt like years ago. Could they effectively shield themselves, block out the avalanche of emotion that would surely come? Given all they had faced together in so short a time, they couldn’t help but smile at each other. They could stare down an alien warship, but the forces of nature that were their mothers made them both tremble. 

In the meantime, they needed to head downstairs, determine what the issues were with their comrades, and get ready for the onslaught. Lying there, in warm, soft bedding, the exquisite feeling of skin on skin, they exchanged lazy kisses, growing in intensity moment by moment, and decided the rest could wait a while longer.


	3. Chapter 3

_The texts of the ancient world note more instances of oracles than I dare count, but conversely, they record an even larger number of charlatans who pretended to see the future for their own personal gain. The remarkable work in this field by our young Jeffrey Morgan brought to sharply to my mind the grand arrogance of the final generations of Terra, and arrogance we ourselves have not fully escaped. We give primacy to that which can be seen, measured, repeated on command. The inherent danger we face is the out-of-hand dismissal of mystery and enigma. I cannot help but think that we continually miss something vitally important. Our myths, both ancient and new, give us essential clues to who we are, and of what we are capable. In this light, that true oracles exist only in those myths should warn us all. If oracles do in fact exist among us, our arrogance blinds us to them, and consequently, to one of the richest parts of humanity, past, present and future._

_\- Pontifex Muthologia Celebras Lethon, from “Man and Myth,” AT 3130_

 

Jared and Jensen insisted they go alone to greet their families. Whatever motives the others chose to read into that, the simple truth was they wanted a final walk through town alone. The snow from the night before left an undisturbed blanket of white from the heated sidewalk of the cabin to the main road. Few travelers headed from town in this direction. The solitude, and the pure whiteness of the winter world around them, settled their souls with deep peace. 

They opted to wear their dress coats. the heavy fabric brushing along the surface of the snow. Though they wore black leather gloves, they held hands the entire way. The path into town unwound before them like a ribbon of white satin, flanked by massive firs, their branches drooping with heavy snow. Grey clouds hung low above them, a sign more snow was on the way, clipping off the very top of the massive peaks that walled off the valley. Less than a kilometer down the road, the trees parted, the path widened, and the tall wood and stone buildings of the village came into view. The roofs laden with snow, made them appear startling like the curious miniature houses the boys had seen in Ella’s store, made of cookies, candy and frosting. 

Some people in town even honored some ancient tradition in which they put thousands of tiny lights all over a giant fir tree in the center of the village. Every time they came into town, they stopped to stare at it, the countless twinkling lights like stars scattered among the branches. After the second time they saw it, they made a silent agreement that next year, they would carry on this tradition at the cabin. 

If.

In quiet moments lying in bed, as they drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms after their lovemaking, they allowed themselves to dream. Of a time after the war was over and won, when they were not soldiers, but people doing their best to live well. In those dreams, they lived here. Surrounded by their many wonderful friends, carrying on mundane conversations about the comings and goings of ordinary lives. One day, they told themselves, they would come here to simply be. 

It was a lovely dream, one they held close to their hearts for somedays and maybes.

The late afternoon was cold, but they felt warmed from the shared memory. Standing on the edge of the village, they sensed the presence of friends moving toward them. Jensen suspected they tripped some kind of alarm every time they set foot on the path into Ouray that alerted someone that they were coming. Jared thought it was some weird psychic thing. Jensen reluctantly agreed. They’d caught glimpses, odd patterns of light that sometimes bled into their regular vision. If the townspeople were Adepts they were not of types the cadets were familiar with, and not of a strength that would be of much interest to the government. They both suspected that the Justicar knew all of this, and was responsible for the town acting as a safe haven to Adepts. 

The two young men had no doubt that news of their families’ arrival had spread throughout the town. Secrets simply didn’t exist here. Some might view this with distaste, but Jensen and Jared embraced the transparency. They knew too much of secrets. They continued the short trek into the main thoroughfare, warm smiles and waves greeted them. They had been fortunate. Though this marked one of the biggest tourist seasons for the town, the locals worked diligently to make sure the adepts didn’t get snared in groups of curious onlookers. Their long, formal, severely-tailored coats only served to draw attention to them, but they had learned that with the faintest projection, they could easily distract unwanted pursuers. At first, they felt uncomfortable with the manipulation, but Morgan had picked up on it, and persuaded them that it wasn’t unethical. In fact, the older man had chuckled when they explained what was going on, and asked if they could teach him how to pull that off. 

Today, however, the townspeople had almost cordoned off a path to the port. A few people were walking out the large doors at the front of the massive building that marked the far edge of the town, but it seemed that some local liaison had met all of them and was hurrying them to their destinations. When they entered the giant domed-structure of the embarkation area, they were largely alone. 

They waited only a few seconds before the play of light that marked materialization on the teleporter pad began. The light show faded and Alan and Donna Ackles were standing in front of them. They saw Jensen’s older brother Josh and younger sister Mackenzie behind them. Teleportation was disorienting to anyone who had not grown accustomed to it through frequent use. They could sense the vertigo Jensen’s family were suffering, but knew it would pass in a few seconds. 

Though Jared really didn’t know these people, he felt Jensen’s happiness as though it were his own. The love that passed through him for his counterpart’s parents felt as though it had originated within him. They hadn’t considered this complication. A frisson of worry passed through them, but they were set upon with hugs and greetings before they could consider it fully.

The group basically doubled with the arrival of the Padaleckis and the frenzy continued until an all too familiar voice cut through the din.

“So these are the people responsible for you two?”

They turned to see Loretta, wearing a mischievous smirk. Before anyone could react, she moved forward, approaching the mothers first, her expression transforming into the perfect warmth of the consummate hostess.

“Now don’t you worry,” she said. “I have been working myself to the bone to make sure these two are eating like they should be. I swear, left to their own devices, they would waste away to nothing.”

In about ten seconds, she had completely won them over. They had to hand it to Loretta; she had the instincts of a master tactician. With their mothers handled, the rest of the clans fell in line. Before they knew it, everyone was headed effortlessly out the door.

“Now I know you all must be exhausted from that infernal contraption,” she contented glibly on. “I hate those things, but they just can’t be beat for convenience, can they? Anyway, I know how trying traveling by teleporter is, so I have taken the liberty to prepare a little refreshment for everyone.”

As Donna and Sheri began to fuss over the trouble, Loretta smoothly cut them off. “Oh, it wasn’t any trouble at all.”

Jared and Jensen thought to themselves that Loretta had no qualms with taking liberties.

“I heard that!” She called over her shoulder at them. She patted both of their mothers’ arms. “I know you two did everything in your power to bring those boys up right. Boys just always seem to be difficult, don’t they?”

The ensuing chatter over the challenges of mothers raising sons carried them all the way to the diner, their fathers smirking at each other, knowing they were in the presence of a great handler of people.

The two adepts brought up the rear of the small parade, and smiled at each other, feeling a bit of relief chip away at their nervousness.

_________________

The boys took great enjoyment showing their families around Ouray. Every shop and storefront held some wonder that appealed to some member of their group. Every Ouraian made great efforts to welcome their families and help them feel at ease. By the time they arrived back at the cabin, night had fallen, and everyone chatted with and easy banter. Jensen and Jared knew that once they entered the house, the reality of their situation would once again assert itself in force. They loved the men and women waiting for them, but with them came insignia and rank and all of the trappings of war. They inwardly shrugged. No time like the present.

The introductions were short and effortless, as their parents had all met their superiors before. The usual pleasantries were exchanged, and before an awkward silence could seize them, the boys escorted their guests to their rooms. As they settled in to their quarters, they each trickled back into the main living area. When both families and their comrades were all accounted for, Jared and Jensen sat forward in their seats. The time was now. 

“We know that you have questions,” Jared began softly. “And we want to do our best to answer them.”

Alan and Jerry shared a grave look, but their expressions softened as they turned to the boys.

“First of all,” Jerry said in his deep voice. “We are very, very proud of both of you. You have become men of extraordinary character and strength. No father could feel anything but proud.”

Alan nodded his agreement and continued. “We want to know, most importantly, that you are both alright.”

“Yes, sir,” Jensen answered. “its been hard, we won’t lie, but we truly are alright.”

“So why don’t you try to explain to us what exactly has happened to the two of you,” Jerry asked.

The adepts took a deep breath. Jared began,”You were there for the aftermath of the beginning. It’s kind of difficult to pick one thing to explain. I guess one of the biggest developments is the transducer kineses.”

The blank stares that met them, urges Jensen to speak. “Adepts all produce a type of energy with their abilities, and each type is unique to their class or skills. Medikinetics produce a very different type of energy from, say, macrokinetics. And those kinds of energy are different from say electricity, or the dark energy reactors. What we discovered is that we could take these different types of energies and transform them into any kind of energy that we needed.”

“So, you can take electricity and turn it into the energy that heals people?” Jared’s sister Megan asked. 

“Exactly,” Jared answered her. “So, we can gather up this huge mass of other energies and transduce it into healing, or deflector, or microkinetic energy. And that allows us to do a whole lot more without having to rely solely on the amount of energy we can produce ourselves.”

Josh, Jensen’s older brother, regarded them with slightly narrowed eyes. “And that makes you what exactly? A pankinetic? You can do everything every other kinetic can do?”

“We hadn’t really thought of it that way, no,” Jensen answered. “I suppose if you only look at kinetic energy types, then yes. But the biggest problem with that is we have limited experience with these other skills that adepts who have lived with them for most of their lives have mastered. We can technically replicated Misha’s empathic field, but he can do more with that field than we could. He just is much more skillful than we are.”

Sherry smoothed out a nonexistent wrinkle in her slacks, never looking up as she asked, “Is that why you so often end up in the infirmary?” Jerry’s arm immediately went around her shoulders, and Alan repeated the same comforting gesture for Donna.

“No, momma,” Jared answered. “Sometimes, we have to marshall so much power to do what has to be done that it overwhelms us. It taps us out. We are left with very little of our own energy to keep us going, and we just need to rest.”

None of the four parents looked particularly mollified by this explanation, and Jensen continued. “We have figured out that we need to recharge after really big events, and everyone around us knows and understands that. They are working as hard as they can to keep us safe.”

The quiet of the room discomfited the two young men. Finally, Morgan’s deep baritone washed over everyone.

“Our highest priority right now, is not to find a way to get the boys to the front. Our highest priority is to keep them safe. Keep them healthy. We haven’t succeeded nearly enough for my liking,” he cut a sharp look at the two adepts. “But, we are constantly striving to do better, take more precautions, to understand their extraordinary gifts.” The other officers, lined up to either side of their leader, nodded their emphatic agreement. 

Jeff, Jared’s older brother, asked incredulously, “What do you mean, you don’t understand their gifts? Isn’t that what Psi Min is for?”

Morgan answered him. “No one, at any point in recorded history has ever seen any adept with the powers these two have. You need to understand, that in the two hundred years of Psi Min, we have moved from barely registering ones on the Ostigo scale to fives. That’s it. Your brothers have leapt so far ahead, we can’t even begin to calculate where on the scale they register.”

“Then guess,” Josh challenged.

It was Samantha who answered him, her tone icy and fierce, the model of a mistress of disciplines. “If you simply cannot function without a number, somewhere around 2,100. The Ostigo scale is algorithmic. This kind of jump and guessing where they fall is meaningless. First, we have no way to even measure their abilities. Second, we have no idea how far their abilities go. Third, with every major strain on their talents, they come back stronger. You wanted a number, so I made one up to make you happy, but it is meaningless. This isn’t about numbers or scales. This is about your brothers, and you would do well to remember that.”

Jeff’s hackles were up. He pointed at Jensen and shouted “He is not my brother!”

Jared and Jensen recoiled. Samantha’s ferocious reply blasted the room.

“You have two choices here,” she said with a perfectly placid tone that hid none of the threat and anger behind it, making everyone in the room know they would regret challenging her. “You get on board with this, you realize that Jared and Jensen are now intrinsically linked. Irreversibly, incontrovertibly, linked. They do not function nor exist without the other. You man up, put away your prejudices, your ignorance, understand that this is fundamentally not about you, and become part of the support system they need. Or, I will gladly escort you back to the teleporter.”

Shocked silence filled the room.

“No one is an exception to this. You may struggle to understand, and that’s fine. We are all struggling to understand, but the moment anyone in their sphere makes this about his or her selves, and not about the two young men we are here to support, I will cut you out of their lives with a surgical precision that will leave you reeling.”

Even Morgan looked stunned at Samantha’s ultimatum.

“Are we clear?” She demanded. Even Jared and Jensen nodded their compliance.

No one dared speak for long moments afterward, until Samantha gently placed a hand on each of their mothers’ shoulders. “I’m asking you to embrace them both,” she said soothingly. “Of all the frightening things that have happened, the best and brightest is that you each gained a son.”

Jensen took the opportunity to interject. “Its more than that,” he said softly. “This isn’t some romantic, poetic idea of love. I am not really sure how to even describe it. We think and feel the same things.”

Jared jumped in. “And its not even like what he feels, I feel. Its more like our emotions don’t originate with one and are shared with the other. We feel the same things at the same times. When the Ackles appeared on the platform, I felt happy to see my family again.”

“Just like I felt when the Padaleckis arrived. The most difficult part of this visit for us, is that Jared has all of the emotions and memories I have of growing up, of loving all of you. You see him as a new addition to your lives, but he sees all of you as people he has known and loved for as long as he can remember.”

Jared looked to his family. “And Jensen is the same way. You are his family. I know it will be hard for you to treat him just like you treat me, but you have to understand. When you treat him like a stranger, it hurts both of us. It feels like our families are rejecting us. And we really don’t know how to make it easier or better for you.”

Donna reached up and patted Samantha’s hand that still rested on her shoulder. “You don’t. You don’t spend one second worrying about us. I can’t promise we will always get it right, but every last one of us will try our best.” 

In one motion, she and Sherry got up from their seats and embraced the newest additions of their families. The hugs lasted for long minutes, and both adepts found tears in their eyes. When they were released, Jared, still holding Donna’s gaze, said. “Its good, you know. This thing between Jensen and me. We will never be alone, because there is always someone who understands me and loves me with a perfection I don’t think anybody has ever known. I don’t have to worry about what he’s feeling or thinking. I just know it.”

Donna nodded, her eyes still clouded by tears, and she and Sherry switched places, to hold their youngest sons close. 

“It is good, momma,” Jensen said, his voice slightly muffled by the embrace. “No one has ever been loved like we love each other.”

Eventually, the two young men were embraced by every family member present, the first real attempts to knit two family groups into one whole. Fortunately, even before this, Megan and Mackenzie had hit it off, as they perused the wares of the shops in town. Even Josh and Jeff had found some common ground. The large group had sorted itself off into smaller components. The brothers standing together. The sisters sitting close, and their parents forming a cohesive unit, focused on their sons. 

Sherry wiped her eyes, and took Donna’s hand. “I think we should probably get dinner started.” Donna nodded eagerly, clearly ready to do something familiar, productive, and familial. 

The two young men were immediately grateful for the work some of their friends here in town had done in preparation for the visit. Loretta, Ella and Lauren turned up a couple of days ago to help them prepare the cabin, doing things neither young man even thought of like airing out rooms, making sure the linens were fresh, extra towels in the bathrooms and bedrooms. They all headed into town for a supply run, and Ella and Lauren drafted their husbands to help them carry it all back. Jared and Jensen thought they’d gone a bit overboard, pointing out how they would be taking most meals at Loretta’s.

Ella asked “are your mommas coming?” When they answered in the affirmative, the three women shook their heads at their obvious ignorance, and proceeded to put everything away in the kitchen. The young men were handed a list of chores to get done and their helpers streamed out the door to leave them to it. When they finished, everything was in place, at least as far as they knew. They had no doubt the moms would find fault, but they would play the “I’m your precious baby boy and an incompetent bachelor” card and get off scot free.

Sasha volunteered to help Donna and Sherry in the kitchen, and Samantha joined them. Their fathers emerged from the other room with steaming cups of coffee, distributing them to Jeffrey, Misha and Jager, a silent invitation to join them at the table and chairs in the dining area. Josh and Jeff, having recovered remarkably well from the rebuke they had received not minutes earlier, plopped down on the sofa, and began arguing playfully over what to watch on the holoset. The two young adepts stood on the periphery, holding hands, and watching their families settling in. They smiled at all of the activity, and slipped off to a quieter corner of the big house, a small sitting room with a stunning view. 

The sat snuggled close together, thankful the first storm had passed, and retreated into the sanctuary of each other.

_________________

The walls felt cold, smooth and hard. Their impenetrable blackness somehow absorbed all light but maintained a flawless sheen, like obsidian glass. They couldn’t see anything emanating light, but everything had a sharp, bright contour, as though a neon outline of everything around them had been laid over the top of their vision. The effect was disorienting. 

The corridor branched off into four different directions, and they instinctively knew which path to take. It led them upward, and the occasional openings off the main passage showed groups of silicates engaged in unidentifiable tasks. They varied somewhat in size, and each of their carapaces bore unique markings and patterns. Some resemblance between groups of the creatures might indicate the silicate form of race. No sound came from any of the aliens, but a strange series of incomprehensible noises constantly came out of the walls. However the silicates interfaced with the giant machinery of the ship, they could not begin to fathom. Nothing like displays or holopads or even neural hookups could be found anywhere. Only the strange sound.

The path ended in a large open room, which like every other room they passed had no door. Inside scores of silicates lay prone and motionless, forming a great spiral that wound inward, terminating with a single being, not visibly distinct from the others. Somehow, they knew this to be a sort of leader. The floor rose with the spiral, and it appeared to have alcoves carved into its surface, one for each of the silicates in the nautilus configuration. The leader rested in the highest alcove. The sounds were much more prominent here, a cacophony of clicks, tones, chords, pings. The longer they stood at the edge of the spiral of silicates, the more they realized the sounds moved about the room, not only along the circumference, but from all over the domed ceiling. The sounds were definitely directional, and yet, the aliens made no corresponding sound. 

After a length of time neither could be sure of, they could successfully filter out the sound, and begin to sense the far subtler undulations of a psionic net. It was unlike anything they had ever encountered before. At first, it seemed a wild wreck of tangled waves, but it was an intensely woven web, a delicate and complex mesh not created by any one being. It came from all of them. The urge to know, to connect overwhelmed them, and they reached out, ever so gently, to “touch” the gossamer. Before they could even get close, one of the silicates, the one nearest them, jerked forward out of its cove, its body giving a violent twist, before it fell to the floor lifeless. Within a second, the next silicate in line did the same thing. 

The psionic web began to disintegrate. Before either of them could fully disengage, over half of the beings in the room lie dead, scattered around the great spiral, toppled over one another. Then, they felt a quivery touch from the mind of the silicates, a query, almost a plea. They desperately wanted to answer, but before they could respond, they watched the filaments of the network that had touched their own psionic energies seize up. The entirety of the hive-mind completely unraveled before them in seconds, finally fading into nothing. Every silicate on board the ship was now dead, and though it made no true sounds, the screaming, screeching, cry of the thousands of strands in the alien web as it imploded echoed in their ears. 

_________________

When they emerged from the dream, they were both breathing heavily, coated in cold-sweat. They clung tightly to each other, sobs breaking up their frantic breathing. The jumble of their minds took long minutes to sort itself clear, and only then did they realize they weren’t alone.

“Mom,” Jared said, in the small frightened voice of a child. 

Donna’s breath hitched. She walked to the side of the bed he lay on, and gently stroked his hair.

“It’s okay, baby, I’m here.” Her eyes teared up when she heard the man whimper. She sat gently down on the bed, one hand still lightly petting Jared, the other rubbing soothing circles into Jensen’s forearm, which was wrapped tightly around Jared’s torso.

In time, the two young men’s breathing returned to normal, their sobs had stopped, and they had managed to restore their calm. 

“You want to tell me about this?” she whispered.

She had almost given up expecting an answer, when Jensen’s husky, sleep-gruff voice answered her. 

“Its not a dream, or a nightmare, its a memory,” he said. “We’ve had it seven times now.” She gasped, but he continued.

“The only difference each time is that we see more detail. Its like replaying a holovid again and again and noticing new things each time.”

Jared put one of his large warm hands on Donna’s. “How did you know? Did we cry out or something?”

“No, Jared,” she said with a sad smile. “We all could feel your terror. The others are downstairs now. Whatever it was you were feeling, we felt it, too.”

“We’re sorry,” he whispered. 

“No, baby,” she soothed. “Don’t be sorry. We’re family. We’re here to help you in every way that we can. You two have been through so much in such a short time. If you didn’t have some kind of psychological reaction, then something would seriously be wrong.”

“We thought we were shielded,” Jensen said in a miserable voice. “We’ve always managed to block projecting while we’re asleep. We don’t know what happened.”

“I can’t answer that one,” she replied. “But I’m glad. Now we can help you deal with this.”

“Thanks,” Jared said, and she leaned forward and kissed his temple. 

“Always,” she whispered against his skin. She continued to lovingly soothe them, and finally she sat up. “Why don’t you two take a few minutes, and when you are ready, come on downstairs. This is serious, and you have a lot of people who love you both dearly. Its time to let us all help, okay?”

Jensen and Jared exchanged glances, and nodded their assent. She rose silently from the bed and walked quietly out, the door snicking closed behind her.

_________________

Jensen and Jared took their time, calming their hearts and minds, relaxing into the only sanctuary they had: each other. They laid touching each other from head to foot, no movement, just soaking up the comfort of being together. In their minds, they saw the nine people gathered around the large dining table downstairs. Samantha had left the day before to begin the preparations for the upcoming term. Her absence was expected. Josh, Jeff, Mackenzie and Megan had all volunteered to stay at Ella’s inn, to give everyone staying at the cabin some elbow room, and they were all four fortunately not present. Jeff’s aura shone brightly. They still didn’t know what to make of the Justicar’s continued presence. They doubted even Loretta’s influence could have kept him hear this long. They refused to take an empathic glimpse into the mind of their leader, but worry continually seeped through. They had no idea how to assuage it, and they felt increasingly guilty that the most powerful man in the Republic had been ripped from his duties and was now forced to play babysitter. 

Their three mentors sat side-by-side, and without any effort, they picked up on MIsha’s emanating concern. Their parents sat across from the three adepts, but the figure at the end of the table was the surprise. They had no idea why Loretta was here at this time of morning. The only explanation they could think of made them very uncomfortable.

They took a few minutes more to orient themselves, then dressed and headed down to the others. They didn’t bother trying to read the room. They would only find the same thing and it didn’t take an empath to see it. Loretta rose to meet them, hugging them both, and offering them seats right beside her own. Every face around the table looked strained, tired, and bleary-eyed. The presence of coffee cups and decanters said clearly this meeting would not be short. The two young men sighed inwardly, and settled in for what promised to be a long and uncomfortable conversation. 

“How long?” The rough, quiet question from their leader caught them off guard. He just stared at them both. 

Jared cleared his throat before answering. “This is the seventh time.”

The revelation met with some murmurs around the table. “And why did you withhold from us that you have been having recurring nightmares?” the older man said, his tone hard as stone. 

Jared squeezed Jensen’s hand under the table. This was the part they had wanted to avoid at all costs, but they were caught out, and no matter what, they refused to lie to any of the people around this table.

“Because it isn’t a nightmare, sir,” answered Jensen. 

“You woke nine people out of a dead sleep with a bone-chilling wave of terror, and you say it wasn’t a nightmare,” Misha countered, looking angry and incredulous. 

“Wait, nine people?” Jared asked, turning his eyes to Loretta.

She sighed, folded her hands into her lap and said, “its not like the two of you don’t already know. Anyone with any ability can’t hide it from you. Its nothing big or special, but yes, I have a strange form empathy. And you two brought me straight up out of bed, dripping in sweat and breathing like I had just run up the mountain.”

“Anyone else in town?” Jared asked, his voice sounding frightened.

“I don’t know,” she answered. “I am sure I will find out in a few hours if there were.”

“We are off topic,” Donna interrupted. “You need to explain what you mean by this not being a nightmare.”

“Its not a nightmare,” Jensen restated. “Its not built like one. This is memory.”

“So you are remembering the attack?” Sherri asked softly. 

“In a way,” Jared answered. “It’s so hard to explain.”

“We aren’t seeing the attack like we’re on the ground, in the Core,” Jensen said. “Its like this memory is a really short moment during those events, and we are walking through the alien ship.”

They immediately felt fear sweep across everyone at the table. “What do you mean?” Jeff asked, trying but failing to sound comforting. 

Jared rubbed his hands down his face, before turning to their leader. “Exactly what he said. I really don’t know if we can get you to understand this, because we don’t clearly. During the fight, there was a second when we could sense the minds of the silicates. We could tell they were intelligent, even if we couldn’t understand what they were feeling and thinking. This memory is of that second, but its like as our power reached out to sense the aliens, we were right there, able to see everything going on in the ship, like the edge of our ability became our eyes. We could see all the aliens. We could see the ship. And we could see the control room.”

Their parents gasped. Sherri looked on the verge of tears, and Alan didn’t look much better.

“Do you think you were tampered with?” he asked. “I mean could they have implanted something in your minds when you were scanning them?”

Jensen and Jared looked at each other and back to the expectant eyes watching them closely. 

“No,” Jensen answered firmly. “It’s worse than that. We know what caused this war.”

_________________

The soldiers around the table leaned in very closely, while their parents and Loretta looked on in shock. Jeff broke the silence.

“You are telling us that you have been re-experiencing a dislocated memory of a second in time during the attack?” he asked, using his objective duty voice.

“Yes, sir,” they answered.

“And that somehow, you are able to see, physically see, everything inside the ship that your psionic senses touched?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And that this memory has revealed to you the true cause behind a war we have been fighting for over twenty years. A war that we have never been able to figure out why it started?”

“Yes, sir.”

The older man looked sharply at Misha, clearly expecting a report. Misha closed his eyes, a grimace on his face to express his disgust at having to probe the two cadets. They knew what was about to happen, so they dropped their defenses, lowered their barriers, and opened their minds to their mentor. Several minutes later, Misha’s eyes opened and his expression cleared.

“I have no reason to call into question anything they are saying,” he reported. “It unusual, to be sure, but I have heard of a few instances where the mind constructs physicality around psionic impressions. I don’t know if I have ever heard of anything so clear and so persistent, but haven’t we pretty much tossed the rule book at this point?”

Jeff seemed satisfied, and Jager just looked hungry for them to get to the main point. The two young men tried to explain what they had seen, tried to put into words this memory/nightmare that haunted their sleeping moments. By the time they finished describing the horrifying final moments in the control room, everyone was staring at them with wide, frightened eyes.

“I don’t understand,” Gerry said. “What does this mean?”

Jared looked at his dad, knowing he couldn’t soften this in anyway.

“It means,” he said slowly. “That whatever energy it is that gives psionics their abilities, just being exposed to a tiny amount of it, causes the silicate hive-mind to disintegrate. It kills them, and they have no defense.”

“You are saying that the psionics caused this war,” Sasha whispered.

“No,” Jensen answered as startled faces turned to look at him. “Its not that simple. Every human mind has this kind of energy. We can see it in everybody. Its just not nearly as potent as it is in psionics. We obviously don’t know how much or how close or anything detailed about the effect, but we think that even a single non-adept human can trigger this collapse. It’s probably a slower decay, but we think it would still happen.”

“So, the aliens don’t have a choice,” Loretta’s soft voice broke in. “Either they survive or we survive. Its a zero-sum game.”

“Yes,” Jared replied just as softly. “There simply can never be peace. It’s just not possible.”

Silence enveloped the room, like a thick, suffocating, cold fog. No one moved until, finally, Jeff reached up and rubbed his eyes. He took a deep sigh, then looked at each face around the table in turn. 

“So you say this ‘memory’ had popped up in your dreams seven times now?” he asked. 

“Yes, sir,” Jared answered. “But each time, its like its clearer. We see and understand and spot things we didn’t before.” His voice trailed off and Jensen picked up for him.

“And it gets stronger each time,” he said. “We have been able to block any kind of broadcast, until tonight. And tonight was the first time we understood what was going on, what was actually happening and why.”

“So you think it will stop, now?” Jager asked, his voice a mixture between concern and curiosity.

“We honestly don’t know,” Jared said. “We hope so. Its really not something pleasant to go through.”

“Sir, we,” Jensen addressed Jeff. “We know that you can’t really take this to the Praetor. Its not like you can present it as fact.”

Clearly the cadet was leading up to something, and Jeff chose to wait him out.

Jensen squirmed a bit before continuing. “Do you remember, months ago, when I was in your office? And you said that I could take control over what I was studying at the Academy?”

Jeff silently nodded.

“We would like to work on a plan,” he said. “We want to take this intel, and we want to weaponize it.”

Their parents gasped. Loretta swore. Jeff sat stock still, and finally Jager asked the burning question. “What are you talking about?”

Jared looked down at the table, and Jensen wrapped his arm around the younger man’s shoulders. Finally, he looked up. 

“If we are right,” he explained. “Peace is not an option. Never has been. Never will be. If we are right, then their greatest weakness is contact with psionic energy. But we don’t fight land battles with them anymore. So, we have to find a way to use this weapon during the only real battles we have.”

“Space,” Misha said. His brow furrowed as he continued. “You want to create some kind of psionic net that extends from ship to ship. If they fly through it. . . “ He trailed off.

“Is that even possible?” Sasha asked. No one answered her.

“We believe that it can be done,” Jensen said. “But it will take a lot of time and effort.”

“And a few fellow cadets,” Misha observed.

“And some interesting equipment,” Jager noted.

“And you just requested to be trained as fighter pilots, while training other students how to form this ‘net,’ and they will also have to be trained as pilots,” Jeff said. He sounded less than pleased.

“Yes, sir,” Jensen answered, in an almost whisper. 

Jeff looked at the three mentors, assessing how they felt about this suggestion. Three stern faces looked back. They were clearly on board.

“You think you can handle this?” he asked them. Even Jensen and Jared took a few moments to consider before nodding with the others.

“I don’t have a problem with getting the equipment, rearranging student schedules, and giving you the time and support you need on this,” the older man said. “However, I have one enormous problem with this. So enormous, I don’t think you can convince me otherwise.”

Jensen sighed. “To test it, we have to fight the enemy, in ships, in space,” he said.

“I’m willing to give you the go ahead on working with the others,” Jeff stated flatly. “I will even authorize pilot training simulators. But understand this. I expect you to develop this, teach it to trained, battle-hardened pilots, and keep your asses planted at the Academy. Am I clear?”

Jared and Jensen looked at each other. It wasn’t exactly what they wanted, but they knew he would never concede to letting them test this against an actual alien squadron. They shrugged, shared a small grin, and looked back to the end of the table where Jeff sat watching them.

And the deal was struck.

_________________

Jensen and Jared had all but dozed off, the adrenaline of the nightmare memory wearing off, leaving only exhaustion. From their quiet corner, they had full view of the giant, lake-facing windows of the great room. The large deck, some three meters deep had managed to remain clear of snowfall thanks to the heating of the umber-colored wood slats. The gently floating flakes of the current light dusting of snow visibly melted on its surface. Beyond that, the lake, with its thick, hoary ice covering, stretched out for kilometers, flanked by frosted firs, and the high, stony sierra, the pinnacles cut off by the heavy, low-hanging clouds. 

The two young men watched silently as a lone figure walked out onto the decking, leaning against the railing and standing perfectly still. It was clearly Alan Ackles. Jared knew of the animosity between father and son. It troubled him for any number of reasons. He innately sensed that Jensen should go to him, and only Jensen. The immediate tension in his mate’s muscular body communicated as effectively as their bond his opinion of that course of action. Jared snuggled closer, pouring all the concern and comfort he could muster onto his beloved. Eventually, Jensen relented, a silently communicated “when this goes bad, its your fault” before he rose to join his father.

The sliding glass panel glided silently back into place, leaving Jensen alone with his father. He didn’t move to approach the man, but stood stock still, studying him. He had considerably aged since Jensen left the ranchstead over a decade ago. He could allow himself now to realize Alan had aged much more than the years since their separation could account for. Deep in thought, the adept nearly missed what his father said.

“So many sins,” the older man whispered. “So many mistakes I made with you. I don’t think anyone can get through life without some regrets, but the things I did to make you think I didn’t love you, that’s the one that will haunt me.”

Jensen made no movement or response. He knew Alan needed to get this off his chest, and it was difficult enough for the man without interruptions. 

“The moment I first held you in my arms, I knew. There was something very different about you. I loved all my kids, proud of all of ‘em, even if I don’t say it like I should, but I knew in that moment, you were an adept, and a damned powerful one. Never told a soul, not even your mother. I buried it deep down, worked like hell to make sure you never had a chance to tap into that power of yours. And then, you did. Angry at me, that force just blasted out of ya, and every nightmare I had from the moment you were born came true. They came and took you. Snatched you away from your family. Dressed you up like a little soldier and started working you over so they could throw you to those damned creatures. Everything I had ever done, to try and keep you away from them, turned into everything you needed to run right to them.

“Now, you aren’t just one of a million bodies to be target practice for those monsters. No, you are the best chance we got. You and that boy will be marched front and center, right up in front of those things. Like a sacrifice, ready to be consumed. And I’ll hold your momma while she cries. I’ll stand proud and straight when we lower your coffin in the ground, no doubt with all the pomp our government can provide. And then I’ll go home, and spend ever day left of my life hopin to die.

“No, Jensen, I never loved you as much as your brother and sister, I loved you a whole lot more. It seems like everything I ever did was wrong, and there won’t be any time to set it right.”

The silence hung heavy. Jensen reeled from the shock of all he had heard, could feel Jared softly weeping through their bond. He clenched his fists to the point of pain, and when he could finally find his voice, it exploded out of him.

“Don’t!” he yelled. “Don’t stand there weeping for a dead son when I’m right here, damn you! For all of my life you have buried me under might bes and could bes, when I was right there, at that moment, in front of you needing you to be my father! I didn’t need a fortune teller. I needed a dad! 

“Jared and I might die tomorrow. Hell you might die tomorrow, but how dare you wrap yourself up in self-pity when you have people that need you! Mom and Josh and Mack need you! I need you! Dammit, Jared needs you! You’ve wasted so much time. You wasted my entire life, and you can’t ever get that back, but you have right now. It’s all anybody’s got. So you better fucking use it!”

He spun away from the older man, breathing heavily, fighting tears that he refused to let fall. In moments, the calm, loving reassurance of his mate washed over him. He had just managed to restore his breathing to normal when he felt a hand resting on his shoulder, gently tugging him to turn around.

Something in Alan’s eyes, something he had never seen before, startled him, kept him silent. His father’s work-rough hand cradled the side of his head, the thumb gently sweeping over his cheekbone. 

“All I’ve got is today,” the older man said in a soft, broken voice. He pulled his son him, hugging him tightly to himself, softly kissing his hair, and murmuring over and over again.

“No more wasted time.”

Jensen let himself be held, just as he let his tears fall.

_________________

Time in the valley always seemed to exist in a paradox for Jensen and Jared: everything felt more laid-back, less rushed, like the minutes just lingered longer, but they also couldn’t believe how quickly their vacation had gone by. Their parents would be leaving the next day, giving them one week more before they returned to the Academy.

Everyone would gather for one more giant meal at the cabin, but for now, the cadets sprawled across one of the large, soft couches in the great room. Their parents occupied the other two. Since the morning of the nightmare, everyone had calmed some. The pervasive worry that filled the cabin before had ebbed, but not completely. They doubted if it would ever truly disappear, certain that it would remain for the duration of the war. 

Fortunately, the frozen landscape outside the giant window of the great room held all of its viewers in thrall. The pine trees’ branches drooped under the heavy weight of the new snow that fell earlier in the day. The peaks towered impossibly large in the distance, like jagged teeth of purest white, and the frozen surface of the lake glistened and sparkled like so many billions of diamonds as the sunlight danced upon world. The fire raged in the hearth, hissing and popping and crackling as it flooded the room with warmth and golden light. Jensen and Jared absorbed it all, storing it away to be recalled as a perfect moment. 

The tranquility in the room rippled as Gerry softly spoke. “This next term, its gonna be rough on the two of you, isn’t it?”

Jensen squeezed Jared tighter, as they took a moment to measure their response. Deciding on honesty, Jared answered his father. “Yes, sir. It is.”

Samantha had contacted them earlier that day. The leading deflector and particle physicists in the worlds had yet to make any headway with what was now being called the “Gemini Deflector Wave.” They barely understood what they were looking at, and had become completely stymied by the process of getting a machine to replicate the waveform. Dr. Richard Speight, arguably the finest mind in the field of particle physics, had requested time to work with Gemini directly to perfect a new deflector generator. Both Jensen and Jared had taken particle physics in their tenure at the Academy, and given the choice of working once a week with a renowned scientist or retaking advanced tactics for the third time, they opted for the former. 

The Justicar had taken their request seriously, and they had flight training, a seminar called “Experimental Psionic Tactics” in which they would try to teach other adepts to link, and a session with each of their mentors. They would not be taking any standard courses. They suspected a plan on the part of Jeff and Samantha to keep them largely removed from the student body at-large, and any trappings that might come from their newly acquired fame. Regardless, they looked forward to the challenges ahead, but both knew this would be the most difficult term at the Academy either had ever experienced. 

Jensen cleared his through to speak, as he felt the worry in the room increase. “Don’t worry too much. I think after last term, Loretta has the Justicar on a short leash. I fully expect he will ship us both up here at the drop of a hat.”

Everyone chuckled, and Sherri commented. “She is something else. I would never want to get on her bad side.”

Instantly, the two young adepts recalled the angry confrontation between the two in the embarkation room. So many different factors made up this supreme complication their lives had become. They toyed with the idea of trying to get their parents to understand, but decided it might be best to leave them unaware. They had enough to be concerned about.

“It just makes things better,” Jared said softly. “Knowing that we have a place to get away to if things get too hectic.”

Affirming murmurs sounded around the room. The fire crackled on, and the frozen world outside began to take on hues of red and orange and purple as the sun sank below the mountains.


	4. Chapter 4

_As happens in all great stories, those tales that remind of us of the extraordinary deeds humanity can achieve in the darkest of times, the hero, or heroes, dominate our memories and preoccupy our reverence. But in all of these myths, the champions are never alone. Others, while not soaring to the same great heights, surround them, support them, empower them, providing the eddies and currents that allow heroes to reach altitudes never before imagined. These brave souls may slip too often from our notice, but if we are of the mind to see, we cannot fail to note the inestimable value and esteem our very heroes held for their fellows. I fancy that were we able to ask, our knights and lionhearts would tell us they would never have even tried had it not been for the comrades-in-arms who gave them the strength and courage to dare._

_\- Pontifex Muthologia Celebras Lethon, from “Man and Myth,” AT 3130_

 

Jared moved two steps left and Jensen stood still. The holo display kept flashing a negative reading. They both focused, augmenting the connection between them. The display still showed negative. Both young men sighed, trying to keep their frustration at bay. Without either of them moving, the display shut off, the mechanical whir of the machines in the room died down, and the blast doors opened, a cue for the centurions to enter. 

“So what the hell is the deal?” Jager growled, obviously failing to suppress his annoyance.

Jensen squared his shoulders and turned to face the three older officers. “The deal is that this psionic sensor does not function.” 

“This is the latest unit,” Sasha countered. “There is no better sensor in the Republic.”

“Then,” Jared calmly stated, “there is no actual psionic sensor in the republic.”

“You are claiming that all of the work and research on this device was wasted?”

“We aren’t claiming anything,” Jensen said shortly. “We are telling you it has no ability to detect psionic fields.”

Misha stared at them before saying, “Then why has it been successful in tests?”

“I don’t know,” Jared answered. “But it is absolutely not picking up anything from Jensen or myself. For it to register anything, we have to be standing about four meters from each other, and we can project a psionic field between us at greater than 1,000 times that distance. Something just isn’t right.”

Jensen looked at their skeptical expressions and said “Alright, then watch this.” He and his counterpart turned on their heels and moved to opposite sides of the large room, at least 100 meters between them. “Watch the display,” the older Adept shouted. 

The display lit up with readings from the sensor, performed the baseline calibration, and then waited for further feedback. Jared and Jensen closed their eyes, and the large sensor housing lifted off the floor. At 30 feet above the heads of their mentors, and the display still reading a null psionic field, Jager swore loudly, “Son of a bitch!” The two Adepts gently lowered the unit to the ground and joined their superiors in the center of the large room. 

Everyone stared and scowled at the offending machinery. It had taken a lot of favors to get the sensor delivered to the Academy. Jensen and Jared had counted on using it to configure and measure field projection to help them create a new defense against the silicates. Now, all of their plans were in jeopardy. The stakes were far too high for this to fail.

“This gives whole new meaning to ‘if it had been any closer it would’ve bit the thing,’” Misha deadpanned. Sasha smirked at her colleague, but a glance at Jager’s stony expression wiped any humor off her face.

He ran a hand through his dark hair and sighed. “I’ll see what I can do,” he said before leaving the room. 

Less than three days back on campus, and their plans were already coming apart. They could only hope that flight training and working with the select group of Adepts for experimental strategies would fare better. 

_________________

The morning’s disappointment still weighing on them, Jensen and Jared made their way to the Manners’ physics wing. The large building lay directly across campus from their usual drill facility. Neither of the Adepts had pursued science officer training. They had only been in the building for a handful of classes in their time at the Academy. 

The edifice looked much like all of the buildings on the outer circumference of the campus, but they had heard rumors of an enormous, state of the art laboratory complex far below the surface. It was to one of these rooms they were heading. 

This would be one of the more unusual courses on Jensen’s and Jared’s schedule: Advanced Particle Physics. The foremost theorist in the Republic offered to teleport to the Academy once a week to work with the cadets. Months of study by the finest minds in the worlds had produced no progress on a mechanized version of their deflector. 

After conferring with the two young men, the Justicar had acquiesced to the Ministry of Science’s request to directly interact with Gemini. Morgan had strong concerns about it. Jensen and Jared could not grasp or explain physics with equations. They got it intuitively. How any scientist could work with two individuals who understood the very nature of particle physics and yet were utterly illiterate in the mathematical language of formulae, he had no idea. He suspected the “classes” would cease a month or so into the term.

He did not share his doubts with any of the involved parties. He had no desire to quash Jensen’s and Jared’s enthusiasm, and the possibility that something fruitful could come from it made the risk well worth it. All the two cadets knew was that on at least this first session, the Justicar would join them. 

After a lift ride to the subterranean chambers of the science building, the two young men were astounded at the gleaming perfect white walls, floors, and ceilings. The entire corridor looked as though it had been cast as one giant, unbroken piece. No seam could be detected between the wall and ceiling, which glowed with an even white light. The flawless reflection off the floor made it appear as though it too emitted light. They could see no break in the walls that would indicate doorways, the long corridor bending gently into an ark on the horizon as it wrapped around presumably in a circle. The overall effect was vertiginous. 

They took a few, halting steps out of the elevator, and on both walls, at about waist height, a large rectangular section of the pure white surfaces glowed blue. A disembodied voice greeted them by name, with mechanical politeness, and asked their destination. They both replied “particle lab,” and the voice thanked them, and the glow now extended all the way to the floor, as though one half of a cross-section of the hallway were glowing blue. With each stride forward, the blue swath preceded them, always extending from underfoot and two meters ahead. Looking behind them, they noticed that the surfaces had returned to their sterile whiteness. 

They walked for several minutes before the glow beneath their feet began to change hue, fading into purple, then into red. By the time it was glowing a deep, vibrant red, the wall to their right slid open, revealing a massive room as stark white as the hallway. The wall closed behind them, leaving no trace that a door had been there seconds before. The lab was completely empty. Two glowing circles in the floor several meters in front of them lit up, and the automated voice politely asked them to stand on the circles. 

It explained with inhuman calmness that the system would “cleanse” them both of any outside contaminants. The process involved only a bright flash of light and a tingling sensation on their skin. Their eyesight returned to normal in a few seconds, and the system thanked them for their patience while two chairs and a large worktable rose up out of the floor. As they sat in the surprisingly comfortable chairs, the system offered to give them a primer on the facility. They figured they might as well as they waited on the others. 

They had only gotten through a few minutes of the primer when they sensed the Justicar and the physicist entering the building far above. They listened as the system explained how the labs worked, how virtually any piece of equipment they required could be summoned via voice command. The inventory of experiment types and their corresponding safety protocols had only begun, when they sensed the two men were approaching the door. 

They stood at attention as the wall slid open, and felt proud that they had managed to school their expressions. In their minds, they expected an older man, with wild gray hair, and a distracted disposition. This man in front of them was still young, not older than mid-thirties, with unruly brown hair, bright gold-brown eyes, and a smirk that embodied the definition of mischief. 

The pair approached the two young cadets, and Dr. Speight said, “At ease, you two.” When the young men remained at attention, he rolled his eyes, turned to Jeffrey, and waved his hand at Jared and Jensen as if to say “Would you fix that?”

A nod from their leader, and the two stood at parade rest. Speight walked around them in a full circle, making odd noises of appraisal before stopping in front of the pair. 

“So you are Gemini, huh?” he said, the smirk only intensifying. “You really don’t look anything alike.”

“We have had no complaints, sir,” Jensen answered in a complete deadpan. 

The scientist’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “I thought you would be taller.”

Jared looked down into the eyes of this man, who stood about mid-chest on him, and replied “As did we, sir.”

“Oh, Jeffrey,” he said. “These two are adorable! Can I keep them?”

“Remind me why I let you in here in the first place?” the older man said, with some amusement. The cadets sensed these two had a history, and they were somewhat fond of each other.

“Because I am the only non-Adept physicist you would let within a parsec of your wonder boys,” he answered. 

“Yes, and I am suddenly very aware of the wisdom of that policy,” Jeff countered.

“Alright,” Speight said, clapping his hands together. “Enough flirting. Let’s get down to business. PHILOS, my darling, how have you been?”

Before the two young men would even wonder who Phyllis was, the system computer answered the doctor. 

“Dick, it is a pleasure to work with you again,” the voice answered, and if the cadets weren’t absolutely certain it was a trick of programming, they would swear the thing sounded pleased. 

“Have these uncouth children been treating you well, my dear?”

“All has been well, Dick. To what do I owe the honor of your visit?”

“PHILOS, you are a charmer.”

“As you programmed me to be.”

“You programmed the lab computer?” Jared asked incredulously.

“Oh, junior, I designed, built and programmed her. And she is so much more than a computer. The Photonic Heuristically Intelligent Laboratory Operating System is one of the wonders of the scientific world, if I do say so myself.”

“And you do,” Jeffrey interjected. “Dr. Speight designed this entire facility.”

“But you aren’t an Adept,” Jensen stated. 

“How can I work with such elitist attitudes,” the doctor dramatically replied as he threw his hands up into the air. “Even we lowly, limited, normal folk can, on occasion, contribute to the greater good.” The two young men stood staring at him, clearly calling his bluff. “They are empaths, too, Jeffy? All that and pretty, too. Life is really unfair.”

“Dick,” Jensen said, with a tad too much emphasis on the name. “What exactly was it that you wanted us to do?”

“He’s all business, this one. Fair enough.” Dick asked for more chairs and two more rose out of the floor on the other side of the table. Everyone took a seat, as he instructed PHILOS to load the Gemini Waveform. As the complex pattern holographically appeared above the surface of the table, the doctor whistled. 

“She’s a beauty, isn’t she?” he said. “I understand you two made this from the sensor logs, correct?”

“Yes, sir,” they both answered. 

“Well, as pretty as she is, she’s doing us about as much good as trying to catch neutrinos in a butterfly net. So, I need to try and tap into your freaky woowoo powers with my astounding intellect.”

Jared turned to the Justicar and asked, “Is he always like this?”

Jeff smiled and just nodded, as Dick replied with wicked glee, “You are stuck with me, stretch!”

Jared and Jensen both groaned as their new “instructor” cackled.

_________________

When Jensen and Jared finally made it to evening mess, they felt somewhat better about the way the day had gone. Dick, as Dr. Speight had insisted they call him, did indeed have a wicked sense of humor. He also had, without question, one of the most agile and piercing minds they had ever encountered. They couldn’t be certain the session had yielded anything remotely akin to progress, but the puckish doctor seemed pleased.

When they entered the large mess hall, the volume level dropped immediately. They knew they had to get used to this response from their classmates, at least for a while longer. Hopefully the mystique of Gemini would wear away, and they would once again be just two more students in a large institution. For now, they had to draw what comfort they could from the group of close friends sitting around their usual table. So far, no one in the group had really started treating them any differently. It was for this very reason the pair had urged the Mistress of Disciplines and Justicar to allow them to include their friends in this new experiment they had underway.

Training Adepts in something completely new and unheard of would prove challenging enough on its own. They had no desire to try and combat the barriers of nervousness and awe that many of their classmates now had in place around the two newly famous cadets. Fortunately, the experimental strategies class would not begin for two more days, so they had some time to try and discover the most efficient way to teach their friends this strange tactic. 

After they had grabbed their trays of food, still heaping helpings due to the continued concern over their nutrition, they took the two vacant seats at their usual table. 

“Rough day?” Erica asked, arching an eyebrow. 

“Strange day,” Jensen answered her.

“The first half was a disaster,” Jared explained. “The second half was just weird.”

They detailed, to the best of their ability given the confidential nature of their efforts with the psionic sensor, how things had unraveled that morning. When they began talking about their time with Dick, several of their friends grew visibly excited. Apparently, the doctor had a few fans.

“He’s truly brilliant,” Raidon said, losing his usual stoic demeanor. “He is one of the youngest physicsts to ever sit on the Ministry of Science Grand Colloquium, and he is the youngest to ever earn a permanent seat.”

Even shy, quiet Alona appeared slightly star struck. Her enthusiasm matched Rai’s, and it was that moment that Jensen and Jared realized they were paying too little attention to their friends of late. The empath and the kinetic were sitting beside each other, a bit closer together than “just friends” would sit. Without attempting to probe the emotional landscape of their friends, they could easily detect a blossoming affection playing back and forth between the two. Neither Jensen nor Jared could recall previous signs that Alona and Rai had begun a more romantically inclined relationship, but the evidence was now in front of them. They silently agreed to be more present and active in their friends’ lives. 

Interrupting the fawning over the visiting scientist, Mike, who never passed up a chance to gossip, said, “So, I hear that we have a very very very VIP for tomorrow’s induction ceremony.” He waited to be certain he had everyone’s undivided attention. “I hear that the Praetor is paying us a visit.”

His pronouncement elicited a round of negative and disbelieving comments from everyone present. Kane smacked him in the back of the head. 

“The Justicar will give the welcome, cuz he’s here on campus,” he argued. “The Praetor has nothing to do with the Academy.”

“Well, he didn’t before, but now we have the wonder twins here and every reporter for three light years trying to break in to take their picture,” Mike hotly countered. After the words left his mouth, he realized his mistake. 

“Fuckin great, Mike,” Chris growled. “Real damn smooth.” The only people not staring daggers at Mike were Jensen and Jared. 

“Wonder twins?” they both said incredulously. 

“Dumbass has started calling you two that,” Chris snarled back, pointing an accusing thumb at Mike. “And some underclassmen heard him, and it started spreading.”

"Aww, Mikey,” Jared cried, “you gave us out first unofficial nickname!! Though, the whole “twin” angle brings some incest-baggage with it, so you might want to rethink it a bit.”

Mike look pleased then disgusted in the span of five seconds. The table got a good laugh at his expense and the mood lifted.

After a few moments, Jensen asked, “Has the press been bothering you?”

Everyone shook their heads, and Naizomi answered him. “No, they can’t get access to the campus. Our security is too tight. But we have heard that your families have had a few run-ins.”

Jared nodded solemnly. “Yeah, but Psi Min has been really vigilante about protecting their privacy. Apparently one face-to-face with a Vexillus of protectors was enough to get them to leave our families alone.”

“Have you heard if the Praetor is coming tomorrow?” Erica asked. “Or, you know, like sensed him or anything?”

Tom buried his face in his hands. “You realize that was more insulting than anything Mike has said tonight?”

Mike cackled. Erica bristled, and Jensen and Jared just shook their heads. 

_________________

The Academy held induction ceremonies at the beginning of every term. New adepts were identified daily, and most opted to spend a bit more time with their families, and chose to enter the school at the beginning of the next upcoming term. Mostly the ceremony was a welcome to the newest members, and a chance to recognize excellence in the faculty or student body. Even though most upperclassmen had lived through 20 or more inductions, the awestruck excitement of seeing the ‘dept-lings, as they often were called, spread even through the most jaded ranks. 

Usually, the Optia delivered the welcome address, the recognitions, and the induction proper. Invariably, half of the student body would be promoted to a new rank signifying their movement upward in their classes. As such, it was the first time they could wear their new insignia in public. Everyone attended induction in their dress uniforms, and occasionally, family members would attend to celebrate their loved ones successes. 

In the 24 ceremonies Jensen had attended, the Justicar had only spoken at three of them. The idea that the Praetor would be there bordered on the idiotic. Given the events of last term, neither Jensen nor Jared would be surprised to see the Justicar presiding over the ceremony, but since they had returned to campus, the Justicar had been occupied with business in Celestus. The sensor logs of the Battle of the Academy had provided Republican scientists a vast data set they had been poring over since almost immediately following the destruction of the alien ship. 

They dismissed all of the gossip and hearsay throughout morning mess, while they dressed and finally made their way to the auditorium. The Mistress of Disciplines welcomed the new and returning cadets, congratulated those who had received promotions. In all, it was a very typical ceremony, up until the moment that Jensen and Jared sensed the arrival of the Justicar in the teleporter room. They could tell he was accompanied by several people they had never met before, but who appeared to exhibit no psionic ability. 

As the entourage moved closer to the Auditorium, the Optia drew the standard agenda to a close. The more experienced cadets began to shuffle in their seats in anticipation of dismissal. It took everyone except Gemini by surprise when the doors opened, and a deep, booming voice called them all to attention. Justicar Jeffrey Dean Morgan and Praetor Primus Hollis Andres marched down the center aisle to the dais. When they and their attendant guards reached the platform, Hollis sat in the seat of honor, the guards taking up position down both sides of the stairs. Morgan stepped up to the lectern and set the cadets at ease. 

“It is customary during induction to recognize service of our students and faculty that have gone above and beyond the call of duty. This morning, it is my pleasure to continue this hallowed tradition. Centurions Misha Collins, Jager Archon and Evocatus Sasha Nevartus, please come forth.” As they three moved to the platform, the Optia handed the Justicar three gleaming boxes of rich, hard-wood. 

“In recognition of superlative service to the Republic and her peoples, I bestow upon you, Misha Collins, the rank of Legionnaire and the responsibilities there with,” said the older man, as he pinned the gleaming torus on his collar. He repeated the same formal incantation as he pinned the unbroken laurel of the Legionnaire on Jager’s collar. Finally, he pinned the galea crest of the Centurion on Sasha’s uniform. As he presented the trio to the crowd, enthusiastic applause greeted them. 

“Decurions Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki, please come forward.” As the two had received their standard promotion at the beginning of the previous term, this was unusual, but not entirely unexpected. “It is normally not my duty to promote cadets for meritorious service. In this case, it seemed appropriate. Your efforts have vouchsafed the future of this institution, of the Republic and of all humanity. You saved thousands upon thousands of your fellows in arms. You have demonstrated ability beyond your rank, and it is my privilege to bestow upon you both the rank of Evocatus and all of its attendant duties.” Morgan pinned the new insignia on their collars. He presented them, and again the applause was vociferous. Jensen and Jared stood there, waiting to be dismissed to return to their seats. It didn’t come.

Instead, the Justicar moved to stand beside Optia and the Praetor took his place at the lectern.

“It requires no imagination to know that the events of the past six standard months have captured the attention of the entire Republic. We, too, have considered these happenings with the gravitas they deserve. Rank, more than any other construct, undergirds the order and structure of the military corps of the Republic. At its heart, rank represents, in practical form, two distinct but vitally important concepts. First is wisdom, which is the judicious acquisition and application of knowledge. The second is the consistent, peerless execution of the duties and responsibilities of one’s appointed office. We recognize the embodiment of these ideals, and in so doing, bring order. We trust, in the moment of crisis, that these invaluable resources will be fully utilized and that these men’s and women’s voices will be heeded. So often, in what we do, discussion has no place. We work in the crisis. This is our domain, and we do all within our power to best prepare for it. 

“It is when a crisis emerges that catches us all unawares that true greatness comes to the fore. At these moments, heroes stand tall and it is our duty to recognize them.

“The Cosull of Praetors and Justicars has struggled with the appropriate official response to the exemplary service and sacrifice performed by non-commissioned officers. It is a situation in which we have never been. In fact, the most common word in all of our deliberations has been ‘extraordinary.’ We often misuse the word, but in this case, none other fits as well.   

“We find that our response must be equally ‘extraordinary.’ For the first time in Republican history, cadets will wear a rank only ever awarded to commissioned officers. Jensen Ackles. Jared Padalecki. You saved the lives of our forces on Utopia Planetia and then singlehandedly thwarted the greatest alien threat the Republic has ever seen in nearly two decades of war. Our debt to you is much greater than we can repay. You have not only executed your duties superlatively, but you placed yourselves in the path of greatest peril, sacrificing all for the greater good of your race. As Praetor Primus, it is my duty and ‘extraordinary’ privilege to convey upon you both the rank of Centurion and the responsibilities therewith.” 

The Justicar handed him two gleaming wooden boxes, and he took from each the golden crest and pinned it upon the uniforms of the two stunned cadets. 

“I take enormous pleasure in uttering words never before heard in these halls. I present to you, your fellow cadets, Centurions Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki.”

The ovation rattled the walls, and carried on for a full three minutes. When Morgan handed the Praetor two larger boxes of a type never seen by any of the cadets, the crowd settled back into their seats. 

“I stated that in our moments of greatest crisis, our greatest heroes arise. We have watched the attack on this institution more times than any of us care to count. It was our moment of greatest crisis since this Republic was founded, and we have never seen greater heroes emerge. Since this war began, we have bestowed this honor on only eight other individuals. Today, we will make it an even ten. On behalf of the consul militia, we present to you, Centurions Ackles and Padalecki, the Crown of the Sentinel.” The highest officer in the worlds opened the first box, and took out a fillet of pure gold, weighted at one end by a square, blue diamond. He turned to Jensen and bid him to bow. He then laid the fillet upon his head, the gem resting between his brows. He performed the same act with Jared. 

“To you we owe our gratitude and our lives. Long live the Sentinels!”

_________________

“You think they are right?”

The question hung in the air for several heartbeats before the answer came.

“I think I have no reason to doubt them,” Morgan replied. “Part of me wants to question how they arrived at this conclusion, but in the past few months, I’ve grown to trust their intuition.”

At the Praetor’s raised eyebrow, the Justicar took a deep breath before explaining.

“Hollis, I am going to confide in you, but this is a secret of the first order. They saw the attack on the Academy month’s before it happened.”

“What do you mean they ‘saw’ it?”

“Exactly that. They had recurring visions in which they saw the alien ship hanging over the campus. If it had not been for their forewarning, we would not have been prepared to evacuate the student body and faculty to the shelters. They couldn’t say when it would happen, but as the event grew closer, the power and frequency of their visions grew.”

“You are saying they actually saw a future event before it happened?”

“Yes, with crystal clarity. This is the first instance of an oracular manifestation in the history of the Republic. So far, only I and Samantha and their three mentors know of this. I have no indication they can control it, that they can summon visions at will. And, frankly, we have no idea how to help them develop this ability. Until they saw the attack, Psi Min had written off the oracular gift as superstition.”

“Have they foreseen something that leads them to believe this strategy will work?”

“No, they haven’t foreseen anything. You know that they encountered the silicate intelligence during the attack. They could distinguish the thoughts and psyches of every being on that ship. Well, they are now re-experiencing that moment over and over again, with astonishing detail. In this recurrent memory, they try to contact the aliens psionically, but the moment contact is made, the silicate hive mind unravels, and the aliens simply die.”

Andres set his coffee down on the table in front of the large windows of the Justicar’s office at the Academy. He stared out at the winter landscape for several minutes before responding.

“So they are a hive mind,” he stated.

“According to Gemini, yes.”

“We have suspected as much,” the Praetor answered. “Our autopsies of the few specimens we’ve acquired in this damnable war show no physiological ability to speak. We didn’t know enough about them to make any definite claims. You know, this explains a great deal.”

Morgan stood silently waiting for his friend to gather his thoughts. 

“You were being groomed to be a Pontifex before the war, yes?”

“Yes. Sryon thought I would be the first Pontifex Psionica.”

“You are familiar with colonial history then?”

“Yes, though I am no expert.”

“You know the history of Trium Alpha? Well, even if you did, you wouldn’t likely know this. About two-hundred years ago, a farmer on Trium reported a bright meteor streaking across the sky. He went to investigate it and found a large crystalline fragment, as he called it, in the middle of his field. He claimed that small crystal chunks had broken off the main body and were moving around the larger form. As he approached, the movement of the small crystals slowed, and then finally stopped. He said they ‘fell over,’ and then the large fragment absorbed them back into its bulk, and a brilliant flash of light momentarily blinded the farmer. When his eyesight returned, the large crystal was gone, but high over head, he claimed to have seen the thing streak again across the sky before it was gone for good.”

“Well, that sounds suspiciously like a silicate scout ship, but we don’t have any way to verify the account.”

“No, we don’t. However, Trium Alpha was the first colony evacuated when the invasion came. It was the settlement at the frontier closest to the silicate point of entry. We don’t really know where their home world is, but our hypotheses confirm this timeline.”

“So, a scout ship returned to their home world, and they launched an invasion?”

“That would seem to be the case. The first time I heard that story, I couldn’t understand the reference to the small crystals suddenly falling lifeless to the ground. I tend to believe Gemini’s claim that human neuro-physiology is fatal to the aliens.”

Morgan sat heavily on the edge of his desk, letting this new information soak in. 

“I have never heard this story,” he said.

“Few have,” Hollis answered. “I first heard it some 50 years ago.”

Morgan gasped. “30 years before the war?”

“Yes. You see, my wife was born on Trium Alpha. Her father was the farmer, and he told me the story himself. I have no reason to doubt the man.”

“Which would also explain why the story hasn’t been circulated.”

“Before the war, I dismissed it as an unexplained optical illusion. After the invasion, when we first caught a glimpse of the silicates and their ships, I had to give it greater credence. Now, it seems, the story is completely true. The implications of all this are profoundly disturbing.”

“There can be no peace,” Morgan whispered.

Hollis shook his head and continued staring out the window. “No peace. Our existence is a threat to theirs. The fact that humans live jeopardizes their entire race. If they are in fact a hive mind, we will never be able to communicate with them except psionically, and the very act would wipe out their entire vanguard.”

The two men sat silently, stock still, a powerful sense of dread filling them both.

“The only outcome is xenocide,” the Praetor said quietly. “Either humanity dies out, or they do.” 


	5. Chapter 5

_The struggles of mankind, as a rule, derive from competing drives within us. The animalistic side, which craves greedily, wars with the human side, which seeks nobility and honor. The internecine battles of our race fill our history archives with peoples falling to one side or the other. In war, and what endeavor do we engage in that is not a war of some shape, the victors ascribe to themselves the more flattering of the two sides. Even we, in our grand Republic, which we fancy to be the noblest of achievements, free from the petty vices of our forebears, grow increasingly blind to the baser drives within us, which operate to this day. Let us not be fooled. All that differentiates us from our ancestors are millennia of agonizing behavioral lessons, the consequences of poor choices.  And let us not surrender to the conceit that vice and virtue can be readily distinguished. Villain and hero exist in vacuum. We will never encounter the one without the other, and always in the same person._

_\- Pontifex Maximus Sryon Tolliver, excerpted from his personal notes, AT 3154_

 

The euphoria of the ceremony carried Jensen and Jared through the rest of the day. They understood the need for secrecy leading up to the event, but couldn’t help but feel disappointed their families weren’t present to share the moment with them. Fortunately, the Justicar had arranged for both families to receive a live holocast of the proceedings. They spent a couple of hours talking with their loved ones via com, listening to their accolades and praises. 

Their friends were less congratulatory, ribbing them incessantly about their new ranks. Mike took particular delight in saluting them at ever opportunity. Alona and Chris kept crowding behind them, asking the Sentinels to protect them. Neither Jensen nor Jared could recall rolling their eyes more than they had in the past 12 hours. They finally resorted to telling Mike to “drop and give them 50 pushups,” which, given that they were clearly his superiors, shut him up in short order. 

When Jared wrapped Chris up in a bear hug while saying over and over again “I’ll protect you, little darlin, don’t you worry your pretty self none,” those jabs also stopped. In all, the day was the most fun and the most connected they had felt to their friends in a while. It also gave them a much needed distraction from figuring out what they were going to do about the experimental tactics course.

The entire course relied on a functioning psionic field detector. They presently didn’t have one, and it seemed they had no prospect of one either. They could visualize the fields of other adepts effortlessly, but had no idea how to train others to see the fields. In fact, they couldn’t even verify it was possible. Jager’s promise to work on the problem had yielded no solutions as far as they knew. Of course, reporting back that a project that had absorbed years of effort and resources was a complete failure had to be handled with a level of diplomacy. Jensen and Jared translated “diplomacy” as “high-level secrecy.” The idea of their gruff mentor handling the situation prompted feelings of humor and horror in the pair. 

The only way either could see to proceed was through good old-fashioned experimentation. When the seven members of their circle entered the training room, they found a large empty space, save for a rack of helmets. They stared at the rack and tried to wrap their minds around what the hell they were about to get into.

“Our plan for today got derailed,” Jared said, sensing their confusion. “So, we have to try a different tack. Tom, Alona, put these on.” He handed the two empaths a helmet each, the headgear resizing to best fit the two very differently built cadets. 

“We need to be able to show you how to sense each other’s psionic fields,” Jensen explained. “We are hoping that empaths will naturally be able to tell where another’s field ends, but to test the theory we need to try something.”

They moved each cadet to a specific spot on the floor, Tom and Alona forming hubs in the center of the group. 

“Macrokinetics,” Jared said. “You need to exert force, which will be difficult for you without something to move. So, each of you move a helmet and suspend it in front of you. Microkinetics, we’re open to suggestions. We just need you to do something that emits a field. Erica, Chris, we leave it to you to figure out how to do that with you abilities.”

Jared walked up to Tom and Jensen to Alona. “We are going to activate the blast screen, okay?” the older adept explained. “You can’t rely on your vision to see where everyone is standing. We need you to sense their fields.”

The two empaths nodded, and Tom asked “What exactly are we looking for?”

Jared and Jensen exchanged uncertain glances. “We are hoping that you can detect the mentality behind the fields. There’s emotion and intellect and intent behind them, so, if we’re lucky, you can pick that up.”

“Well, that’s not vague at all,” Tom grumbled, which changed into muttered curses when the helmet visor went opaque and then Jared began to spin him around to disorient him.

At their command, the other adepts started. Jared and Jensen slipped under the visual realm to see what they hoped the two empaths could pick up. They could feel the frustration radiating off of Tom and Alona, and did their best to try to soothe them. 

It didn’t help.

45 minutes later everyone was tense, on edge, and short-tempered. 

Jensen dismissed everyone for the session. So far, everything they had wanted to achieve this term had collapsed around them. It left them feeling tense and stressed. So much so that during their afternoon session with Misha, the older empath threw up his hands after the fourth time the pair tried to execute a one-mile reading. 

Part of their weekly training now included learning how to function as empaths, since neither had any real experience with the talent. Perched in the same room they trained in before in the newly resurrected Spire, Misha sought to teach them control and finesse over their new found abilities. Given the extraordinary power of the duo, sensing the emotions of Sasha, who was one mile away should have been a walk in the park. Unfortunately, Jensen’s and Jared’s inner turmoil clouded whatever focus they normally could muster.

“Will one of you tell me what exactly has you both so tied up in knots?” the older man demanded.

Jared sighed deeply and began to explain. “Its ExTac.” 

He went on to detail all of the troubles they were having, and their present complete lack of ideas to move forward.

Misha, who had been standing while the pair sat on mats for the exercise, lowered himself with feline grace until he sat between them. “You are hoping that other cadets will be able to sense what the two of you can see when you slide under the world.”

It was a statement, not a question, but both young men nodded silently.

“I have to tell you,” their mentor continued,”I have never encountered anyone who could sense to the level of precision that you to do. No one has ever recounted anything remotely like the visualization you have.” 

He paused as his pupils deflated in upon themselves, their faces a portrait of defeat.

“No, none of that,” he ordered. “You are asking your friends to see something they have no concept about, but give up when they fail. That’s short-sighted and more than a bit stupid. If you want them to see, you have to show them.”

The skeptical looks of the pair caused the older man to chuckle. “You are the dynamic duo that can tap into other people’s abilities and amp up their power. Has it escaped your notice that this psionic field sense that you two have is nothing but a highly specialized form of empathy?”

“But that wouldn’t explain why we can sense all energy, not just psionic fields,” Jensen argued.

“True, but empathy is really nothing more being sensitive to sentient energies. Projector empaths can manipulate those energies. Jared, didn’t they teach you in anatomy that the human brain consumes an enormous amount of energy?”

Jared nodded slowly, as understanding dawned on him. “So you’re saying we are just energy sensitive?”

“If you want to oversimplify, yes. Empaths pick up on mental energies because those energies are intimately familiar. We all produce them, so, at an anatomical level, we know what those energies are like. Empaths are sensitive to that. You two, however, are hyper-sensitive. You not only discern mental energy but all different types. That’s what you see when you slip under. So, what you need to do is find a way to boost empathic sensitivities to make the others see those mental fields with a focus and clarity they never have before.”

Jared and Jensen considered this for a minute, then in unison fixed Misha in their gaze. “We should start with you,” they both said.

“And why do you think that?” he asked them mischievously. 

“Because, you have more control and experience than any empath we know,” Jared answered.

“It will be a lot easier if we figure this out with you,” Jensen added. “We’ve done the whole amplifier thing with you before.”

Misha thought about it for a few minutes before giving his consent. He was less than thrilled to have his lesson hi-jacked, but relented in the end. Even with his experience and adroitness with his gift, the task proved daunting. He had to interrupt several times to force his charges to let go of their frustration because it was only making things exponentially more difficult. 

The breakthrough came long before anyone realized it. They had been talking back and forth the entire time, though their eyes remained closed. Misha would explain what he was “seeing” or ask questions, and the cadets would answer back. It was a good half-hour before he realized they were still communicating, but they were no longer using words. Somehow, they had slipped into telepathy. He thought things, and the young men answered, but no one spoke. 

Once Misha figured that much out, he pushed Jensen and Jared even harder, urging them to read not only thought-words but thought-images. They had been working feverishly for several hours, having commed in to cancel other appointments, when the pair clearly read a complex image Misha had fixed in his mind. It was the breakthrough they had been looking for.

“Now that you can see what I have visualized, you can guide me more precisely,” he explained.

“Its more than that,” Jensen said softly. “We can manipulate the image. I think we can even project the image into your head.”

Misha sat silent for a moment, the implications of what the young man had just said sinking in. This would be an ability of enormous power, and temptation. Fortunately, he knew these two men beside him would never abuse that power intentionally. However, this still required thought and a great deal of caution.

“Doesn’t that solve your problem?” he asked.

“In a way,” Jared replied. “But we are hoping to train the cadets in ExTac to do this without us present. We want to be able to train units to this in the field.”

“Then I suppose we have more work to do,” Misha nodded sagely.

_________________

The next three weeks were the most difficult Jensen and Jared could remember having at the Academy since those trying first few months when they arrived here from their homes. Every step forward they took with Dick seemed to take them five steps back. The Gemini Waveform proved to be far more complex than anyone would have guessed. By the third meeting, Dick had 12 deflector generators attempting to recreate it. The resulting deflector array worked better than anything the Republic had at the moment, but it was nowhere near the GWF. 

The cadets did their best to find comfort in the small progress, but getting a true GWF deflector up and running would turn the tides of the war. Dick had frequently told them that he had no illusions they would actually create a working generator that could do what the Gemini shield could do, but he was pleased with what they had accomplished. He had decided to use their unique ability to read deflector waveforms to try and improve the shields in service. That, at least had proved fruitful.

Working with the flight training simulator had been less so. After the fiftieth time they crashed their virtual fighters, the humor of it wore off. They had no idea that flying a fighter would prove so difficult. Given the changes in their ExTac course, the sim was not as urgent, but now they had begun it, they refused to let it beat them. Both of them would have devoted their off-duty hours to the sim if they weren’t painfully aware how estranged they had become from their friends. 

ExTac had given them an opportunity to work with the group, but they needed to make a stronger effort away from official duties. Fortunately, their breakthrough with Misha had progressed, and the prospects for the first truly effective weapon against the silicates looked more than promising. On top of everything else, they had sessions with each of their mentors. Oddly, the intensely physical hand-to-hand combat training with Jager was the most enjoyable. They could completely lose themselves in physical activity, The strain and ache of muscles. The sweat and cries of exertion. They left every session exhausted but somehow refreshed. 

Another highlight came from the morning run. Before “The Corridor,” the literally explosive event that changed everything, that their friends all spoke with a level of gravitas that implied the capital letters, Jared and Jensen ran with their respective groups, four or five people. Now, it was the entire gang, all nine of them looping the campus in a massive pack. The valley was still buried in snow, the cold air blocked out by their utilities, but still felt on their faces. The view, however, made it all worth it. Watching the sun rise, lazily climbing up the backside of the mountains, they could see the white snow change colors from deep blue, to purple, to pink, and then orange to yellow. As far as the eye could see, the colors of dawn danced vibrantly across the landscape.

This morning, Jensen and Jared took the opportunity to check on two members of their party, and the burgeoning romance between them. They spotted Alona and Raidon running together near the front, so they inserted themselves in between the two, and the herded them apart for a little one-on-one interrogation.

“That was very smooth,” Alona snarked at Jared, barely out of breath. 

“We thought so,” he grinned. 

“Is this the official ‘so you’re dating’ talk?” 

“Something like that.”

“Well, we are, but we are taking things slowly, getting to know each other better. All that mature and responsible stuff you would no doubt demand of me.”

“I am very demanding.”

“You’re telling me,” she countered laughingly. “He’s a great guy, nothing like what I thought at first. He’s very considerate and really romantic.”

“How romantic,” Jared asked suspiciously.

“That is none of your business,” she said.

“I wanted to make sure you are alright. That you aren’t in over your head, and that he’s treating you right.”

“Yes, dad,” she shot back sarcastically. “He’s a perfect gentleman.”

“Good, but if you ever need to talk, you know where to find me.”

“Attached to Jensen, I know.”

With that, the conversation came to an abrupt end. Jared knew of all their friends, Alona had the most trouble adapting to the changes in their circle, and specifically him and Jensen. He thought she was doing better. Now he questioned if their refusal to empathically scan their friends was wise. He could sense that Jensen’s and Raidon’s conversation lacked any of the awkwardness he had just felt. For that he was grateful, but clearly, Jensen had picked up on his discomfort. The green-eyed man had broken of from Raidon and had sidled up alongside Jared. They didn’t speak.

_________________

Later that evening, in what Mike had insisted on labeling “The Uncommon Room,” as no one but their group of friends ever used it, Jared and Jensen watched their friends closely. Resisting the temptation to scan them, they tried to learn if they all felt as out of sorts as Alona did. To their surprise, only two of the gang seemed somewhat ill at ease. The biggest surprise was who. As the others filed out to go to mess, Jared and Jensen asked Alona and Christian to hang back for a minute. Now the young man and woman sat side -by-side, fidgeting as though they were in trouble and waiting outside the Optia’s office.

“Guys,” Jared began gently. “We owe you both an apology.”

The startled faces that met his proclamation betrayed their sense of unease.

“We knew that the whole Gemini thing was rough on you,” Jensen continued. “But we got so caught up in the whirlwind, we didn’t take the time to pay attention to exactly how rough it has been.”

Christian made a motion as though to interrupt, but Jared stopped him. “We haven’t been scanning you or anything. Jen and I vowed we would never do that to our friends unless your lives depended on it. We have just sort of had our eyes opened to what’s in front of us.”

“We’re trying to adapt,” Alona explained softly. “But its a lot to take in.”

“One minute, we have our goofy, go-lucky friend Jared, and suddenly he has this other half that he can’t separate himself from and they’re a superweapon,” Christian said tersely.

“You don’t like me very much,” Jensen announced matter-of-factly. “We’re being honest here. Don’t try being diplomatic.”

“No,” Alona said with uncharacteristic heat. “I don’t like you.”

“Is it because of the Gemini thing or something else,” he asked soothingly.

“Before The Corridor, all I knew about you was that you were arrogant, aloof, cold, unfriendly, and you had a revolving door to your bunk. Everything I could have wanted for Jared, you were not it.”

Jared tensed, feeling the urge to defend his other half, but Jensen soothed him. “You aren’t wrong,” Jensen answered her. “I don’t think I would have wanted me for Jared, either, but this whole ordeal has changed me. Its changed Jared, too, and maybe that’s part of the problem.”

“He’s taken on a lot of your characteristics,” Christian replied. “He’s more forceful, more confident. I don’t think the changes in him are bad, necessarily, but I am waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“You think I am going to change Jared into what I used to be,” Jensen stated flatly. “You realize that the person I was is gone now? For more reasons than I can name, but the biggest being that when Jared came into my life, I had to let the ghosts of my past go. Disapproving fathers, chips on my shoulders, all of that didn’t have any place anymore.”

“I see that,” Alona conceded. “I see that you aren’t like you were. You are kind to us. I think you care about us and him, but part of me still suspects this is an act.”

“You worry that I am pretending to be nicer to steal Jared away?” Jensen didn’t wait for a response before he continued. “Let me try and explain this. I am not acting nicer toward you. I get the change was abrupt, but I have the same memories of you that Jared does.”

“You mean feelings toward us,” Christian interrupted.

“No, the memories,” Jared countered. 

“I remember walking into algebra for the first time and seeing a small, quiet girl sitting in the back, trying like hell to disappear. I remember sitting next to you, sending you pictures on your scroll just to see you smile. I remember introducing you to Tom and you getting all star-struck. I remember a twelve-year old you nestled into my arms as you tried to cry away homesickness. I remember all of this, like they were my memories,” Jensen said. 

“When did this start?” Christian asked, his voice thick with concern.

“We started paying attention to it in the past month, but we think that the memory sharing may have started right away. At least when it came to strong and important memories about loved ones and crucial moments,” Jared answered.

“You remember all of that?” Alona quietly asked Jensen.

He nodded. “And a whole lot more than that. I get being worried that somehow I am going to corrupt Jared. I felt that way, too, in the beginning. But what I discovered is that we balance each other out. We are absorbing the other’s strong suits, and our weaknesses are fading away. Part of that is integrating all of these new memories into myself, finding myself loving people I never knew because Jay has loved them all along.”

“But you need to understand something,” Jared interrupted his counterpart. “We are now a package deal, and its not the usual ‘if you don’t like my boyfriend I don’t like you’ thing. Separating us is just dangerous, for a host of reasons. Not the least of which is the that further apart we are the more it hurts us we start to lose control. We can’t be apart, but I want you to really think about this. Despite all the crazy changes, the dangerous situations, I am happier than I have ever been in my life. I will never have to go through the heartbreaking angst of trying to figure out if Jensen loves me as much I love him. I will never experience hiding something from him because I am afraid he won’t love me anymore. Doubt has no  part of our relationship. We just know. And I want you both to see that. To recognize that, and to be happy for me, because that’s a huge gift that  no one else has ever gotten before.”

“Jay,” Christian said, “We are happy for you. But I think you are misinterpreting what we are saying. You are both acting. Like right now. You both sensed a problem, you both addressed it, but Jared started out first. Why? Because we have known him longer and trust him more. That’s a tactic. What neither of you realize is that we are watching you both disappear.”

“Chris, we aren’t going anywhere,” Jensen offered in an attempt to soothe him.

“But you are,” Alona interrupted. “You aren’t physically disappearing, but you both are fading away. I am not talking about standard changes people go through when they find their significant other. Whoever Jensen was and whoever Jared was is changing into whatever Gemini is. We are watching you become the exact same person, just in two separate bodies.”

“You don’t even realize that you are doing it,” Chris continued. “Sometimes, when people are close they will have unspoken conversations, finish each other’s sentences. You aren’t even having conversations. You know exactly what the other is thinking and feeling because its exactly what you are thinking and feeling. Its almost to the point that it wouldn’t matter which of you we talked to because its talking to both of you.”

“We aren’t saying you should try and stop it,” Alona added. “We don’t think you could even if you tried. We just want you to understand how very strange and disconcerting this is. If we act upset, its because we are worried. Maybe we resent that this happened, and maybe, if we’re being honest, we are unfairly blaming Jensen for starting this process. We know it isn’t right. We know that isn’t what really happened. We will try to be better about it.”

“Does everyone feel this way?” Jensen asked. 

“Pretty much,” Chris answered. “I think that me and Lo are just having a harder time dealing with those feelings. In a way its comforting that you didn’t realize it. I think all of us have a little bit of fear that you know everything we think and feel. We know you wouldn’t deliberately scan us, but at this point, it would be easy to believe that you wouldn’t even have to. You would just know.”

After a long pause, several minutes of uncomfortable silence, Jared turned to this two friends. 

“We’re sorry,” he offered. “But there really isn’t anything we can do about it.”

“We know, Jay,” said Alona kindly. “Its unfair of us to lash out at either of you. In the future, we will try to be more open about it. Its hard for everyone, and none of us wanted to bring it up because we know that its been hardest on the two of you.”

“We can’t imagine what you are going through,” Chris continued. 

“Don’t worry too much. It’s not all bad,” Jensen said, taking Jared’s hand and twining their fingers together.

“Nope,” Jared said, smiling, and squeezing his partners hand. “Not by a longshot.”

_________________

The oppressive darkness of the room weighed heavily on both of them. Everything within them screamed for them to run, but they could see no doors .They couldn’t even see the walls. They walked, shoulders brushing, quietly through the massive space, trying to suss out the borders of the room. Disembodied hands grabbed Jared by the arm and in a moment, he was gone. Jensen felt hands locking his arms and legs into place. He screamed for his partner. The dark swallowed up his cries completely, and no sound came in response. 

They were being ripped in two. The further the hands pulled Jared away, the more the pain, the searing agony in mind and body, amplified. In seconds, they knew they were losing their minds and that their guts were going to spill out onto the floor. The vice-like grip of the hands never let up. Neither could struggle, could do anything to try and break free. Second by second, the pain grew, the noise in their heads ratcheted up, a high-pitched shriek that made them feel the top of their skulls were about to explode. 

The sound of screaming jerked them violently, blessedly, out of the nightmare. Jensen and Jared, laying side by side, clutching each other like lifelines, both crying out. What few items, furniture, school supplies, that were in the room, came crashing down from their unnaturally suspended positions a meter above the floor. They were both openly sobbing now, wrapped up tightly around each other, as though they were trying to climb into the other’s skin. The extreme seclusion of their quarters from the rest of the campus would prove invaluable tonight. Had they been anywhere near the others, the halls would be filled with terrified, disoriented cadets. 

Locked away on the other side of the grounds, they took comfort that the only terror that night was their own.

_________________

The conversation with Alona and Chris, coupled with the nightmare, dominated Jensen’s and Jared’s thoughts for days. They rarely spoke, and sleep seemed a terrifying landscape they had no desire to escape to. Finally, Misha would no longer be dissuaded by their claims of “We’re fine.” He forced them to confess what exactly the hell was going on before he suspended them from duties and sent them to the infirmary. That, more so than any other threat, got to them. The nightmare had come twice more in the intervening days, and the infirmary not only had a great deal more equipment to be thrown about in their unconscious psionic spasms, but it was always staffed. They could never subject another person to that kind of danger. 

They decided to start with the easiest: the conversation with their friends. Misha and Sasha looked at them compassionately, and Jager wore his standard stoic countenance. All three of their mentors commented they had noted the same changes in the pair as their friends. Misha suggested that if the transformation wasn’t causing them personal distress, they should let it go. Their friends would adapt in time.

The nightmare, however, caused a level of concern. 

“It appears to me,” Sasha explained, “that the two are related.”

Jensen and Jared stared at her blankly, as if the ‘duh’ hanging in the air wouldn’t fall like a lead balloon. 

“The question is,” she continued, “how do we help you deal with this so you can actually get some sleep?”

Ideas bounced back and forth, from sedatives, to meditation, to stuffed animal toys .The last, obviously being Misha’s idea, lightened the mood in the room considerably.

“We will help you through this,” he assured them. “But, I think all of this together warrants a discussion with the Optia and the Justicar.”

Given the Morgan had rarely left the capital since term had started, they knew that meeting would not be able to take place for several days at minimum. In the meantime, the cadets had opted for supervised meditation sessions with Misha to help deal with their troubled dreams.

The positive aspect of the whole mess was that all of their friends, Alona and Christian leading the charge, rallied around them. They moved as a cohesive unit, to meals in the mess, to the uncommon room, to the morning run. In four short days, it was the most time Jared and Jensen had spent with their friends in months. To their surprise, only two days after confessing to their mentors, they received a summons. the Justicar was waiting for them in his office. They hadn’t expected him for at least three more days. They had deep concerns about talking with their leader about their nightmares and the changes they were going through, but they also eagerly awaited the chance to see a man that had become more than a leader to them, but a close friend.

_________________

“I am not overly concerned about this personality merging your friends are talking about,” Justicar Jeffrey Dean Morgan stated flatly. Jensen and Jared sat somewhat stiffly in the chairs facing his large wooden desk in his office at the Academy. “If this hasn’t been a source of discomfort or alarm for you, than I have no issue with it. I admit its unprecedented, and I have noted the same changes in you that your friends have. I suggest we watch it closely.”

From her perch on the corner of his desk, Optia Samantha Ferris, Mistress of Disciplines at the Academy Psionica, watched the two cadets closely. 

“The nightmare, on the other hand, alarms me,” she said evenly. Three sets of startled eyes turned to her. “Every time you have had a nightmare that required you to report it, the dream has been significant. First, it was oracular. Then it was a key to understanding the silicates. Now, this? I am very concerned.”

Morgan nodded his agreement, his eyes now fixated on the mirror-like surface of the desk. Finally, he looked up and said, “Right now, I see no available course of action other than the one you are currently taking with Misha. But I want to watch this very very closely. If the dream changes, you are to report it to your mentors immediately. If this is oracular, we need to be prepared. Unfortunately, as it stands now, we have no idea who or what might be trying to force this separation. If the threat is real, we need more details to guard against it.”

Jensen and Jared voiced their assent, and waited to be dismissed. 

“Jager has spoken to me about the problems with the psionic field detector,” Morgan began. “If your suspicions that it doesn’t work at all and never has are true, then this brings up a number of very serious questions. Least of which are what has Dr. McNally been doing all this time? It is serious enough that I have brought in two specialists. However, because of a host of outside factors, I am classifying this as a Code Black.”

The duo stared at their leader with wide, startled eyes. Whoever these two people were, no one in the Republic, except the people in this office could know they had been here, or even who they were. Before they could give voice to any of their concerns, the door to the antechamber of the Justicar’s office opened, and two men stepped out: one unknown to them, the other completely familiar. 

“Howdy, boys,” Dr. Dick Speight greeted them puckishly. 

“You obviously know Dr. Speight, but the other gentleman is Chad Lindberg. He is a technical specialist, probably the most skilled in all the worlds.”

Greetings were exchanged, and Jensen and Jared returned their questioning gazes back on Morgan.

“Your mentors, the Optia and I have had some discussions about the unique ability you two possess to slip under the veneer of the world and see the energies that undergird it,” the older man explained. “Obviously, that is a long and inelegant way to say it. Misha suggested we call it ‘phenomenoptics,’ which is long, but seems to convey the meaning. We know that you deliberately refrain from using this ability unless during training or in dire situations. I encourage this policy, but having spoken with everyone present beforehand, I want you to do a phenomenoptical scan of everyone in this room.”

Not mistaking the order in his words, the pair relaxed their minds and the world of energy appeared before them. All looked as it had before, except for the two guests. Something about their energy fields felt off. They looked more closely, and in unison gasped.

“You are adepts!” they whispered breathlessly.

They didn’t need to see his face to know the Justicar was smiling at them. 

“They are good,” Dick smiled. “I’ve wondered why they had never sensed me before.”

“Your psionic field is unlike anything we’ve ever seen before,” explained Jared. “It doesn’t fall into any of the categories we see here at the Academy.”

“You’ve stumbled upon one of the most closely guarded secrets of PsiMin,” Morgan explained. “When Kolran Deletrois founded the Ministry, he also created the categories for Psionic abilities, but we never stopped looking for different types of gifts. We have found over two-hundred different manifestations.”

Jensen and Jared gasped at the revelation.

“But these different abilities are decidedly different from the standard categories,” Morgan continued. “Officially, we have never changed the standard psionic gifts. These are referred to as adepts, but these other unusual manifestations, we call adroits. We have no idea how to train them, and in terms of service to the Republic, these individuals function better and develop more thoroughly without PsiMin intervention.”

“The Valley,” Jared said.

“Yes,” Morgan stated, smiling at the cadets’ perceptiveness. “Nearly everyone in Ouray is an adroit. Loretta has the ability to make people feel at ease and welcomed. It would be wasteful to try and create a curriculum for ‘hospitality’ at the Academy, and she has fully trained her ability through the course of everyday activity. Dick has an innate understanding of physics, to the point of genius. His psionic field enables him to excel where others stumble. Chad, however, might represent the first adroit class that could become an adept category. He is a technopath.”

“I thought that designation was fiction,” Jensen said.

Morgan chuckled. “Officially, it is. But unofficially, you are looking at the only known technopath. Obviously, it is almost impossible for us to find adroits. The ones we know about have come to our attention through happenstance. They appear to manifest at the same time as adepts, but we have no method of identifying them as psionic. These men and women look for all the worlds to be talented but completely non-psionic.”

“And now, we have demonstrated that we can find these people for you,” Jared said with narrowed eyes. 

“Yes, but clearly there are more important things that both of you must attend to,” Samantha addressed him. “Using you as an adroit detector would be a highly wasteful use of your talents.”

“But we have spent the past month showing other adepts to see using phenomenoptics,” Jensen added.

“Potentially, we will be able to train other adepts to use that ability to find adroits, but for now, we have no plans to do so,” Morgan explained. “For now, no one else in the Republic needs to know they exist.”


	6. Chapter 6

_The Water Wars of Asia in the final century of Terran history sadly and powerfully demonstrate the lack of vision of our species. In less than 200 years, humanity had so violated their home, so completely disrupted Terra’s natural ecosystems, that ninety percent of the population, all of which were living in coastal cities, lost more than their homes when the seas rose and consumed the largest metropolitan areas. The planet’s glaciers shrank, and the most significant source of potable water literally disappeared. Year by year, the oceans grew higher, the temperature climbed, the ice melted away permanently. Overpopulation, air pollution and a myriad other crimes drove billions inland. When the fresh water ran out, war followed. The last act of Tsang Lao either makes him a desperate hero or the worst villain in our history. In truth, he was both._

— _Diary excerpt from Justicar Conservator Mishuhara Ito as entrusted to Pontifex Gaius Johannsen in 2570 AT._

 

“So this is the Orion Chamber,” Chad Lindberg said with no small amount of awe.

“The what?” Jared and Jensen asked, immediately followed by Dick’s annoyed “How do you know that?”

“How do I know what? That the most advanced research facility in the worlds is called ‘the Orion Chamber?’ Or how I know that it’s the most advanced research facility and it’s buried a mile underneath the Academy and only 10 people know it exists? Or how I know that you designed and built it and there’s a teleporter in the corner coded to your DNA that lets you pop in and out whenever you want?”

The three men just stared at the strange man with their jaws hanging open.

Dick recovered first. “Yes.”

Chad laughed loudly, the sound echoing around the massive, white room. “I’m a technopath, dude. There isn’t much that I don’t know about. Unusual patterns emerge in communications between people, patterns of words form, it all starts to weave together into an interconnected matrix of information and I just figure it out.”

“That’s awesome,” Jared and Jensen said, sounding like star-struck five year olds. 

“You two are really adorable,” Dick said, without as much sarcasm as his tone usually conveyed. 

“I had no idea that the two most super-charged human being in history would be so cute,” Chad added. It was about that time that the cadets realized they were being teased.

“We are, truly, adorable,” Jensen said dryly.

“Cuddly, too,” Jared added. They both ran toward the two older men with arms open carrying on about hug time. Chad and Dick both took the opportunity to flee and shout about the important business at hand. Which led them to the giant piece of machinery in the center of the room.

“So this is the psionic field detector,” Chad said, slightly out of breath. 

Dick rolled his eyes. “It’s seven years and several hundred kilos of wasted effort.”

“What makes you so sure?” Chad asked.

“I know McNally. He’s not the sanest man you’ll ever meet.”

“Frank McNally,” Chad breathed out. “There’s a story.”

The cadets pressed the older men for details. Chad explained that Frank McNally had been one of the sharpest and most promising minds to emerge in the scientific scene in a decade. He published extensive findings on molecular harmonics and sub-space fields, revolutionizing quantum physics. At the height of his career, the war broke out. His son, a very recent graduate of the Academy Psionica was among the first wave of Adepts to be sent to the front. He never came home.

His death fractured McNally’s mind. He became irrational, pursuing wild theories of weaponizing psionic fields to prevent any more young men and women dying due to the silicates. The military paid attention to him, too much attention. The Adepts had been the only effective counter-measure against the invaders, and finding a way to reproduce their abilities mechanically, and weaponize them would dramatically change the tide of the war. Unfortunately, McNally’s theories never panned out. 

“Which leaves us with one inoperative psionic field detector,” Jared said sadly.

“Well, like Dick said, a whole lot of research and resources have been used to make the damned thing. Let’s fire it up and see what it does,” Chad answered cheerfully.

He tapped on the metallic cuff he wore around his left wrist, and the whole thing lit up, displaying a wide array of information that Jensen and Jared could make no sense of. A large workstation rose up from the floor, covered in touch screens and holodisplays. He began to interact rapidly with the chamber’s computer, his hands a blur of motion and activity as the holointerface changed with each gesture at a rate so fast; the cadets could not hope to follow it. The detector activated and a new flood of information poured out across the displays. 

“You can scan me if you want,” Chad said to the two younger men, never stopping or slowing his movements. “I’m curious as to what you two will see.”

Unable to resist the invitation, Chad’s body faded and a brilliant amalgam of colors and swirls of energy the cadets had never seen erupted in its place. Clearly, the basis of his ability was a type of empathy, but so wildly different from anything they had ever encountered before. In a few moments of study, they realized he wasn’t reading the information from the computer, he was feeling it. The energies put out by the machine’s holointerface weaved around his own, and the responses between the two were intricate, blindingly fast, and increasingly indistinguishable. 

“Hmmm,” Chad hummed. “This is very strange. I don’t think this is a detector at all. It’s a kind of advanced tactical positioning system. This thing could track a million or more soldiers and send precise feedback to each one. Course corrections, repositioning, all done in real time.”

“So it had nothing whatsoever to do with psionics?” Dick asked.

“No, it’s specifically designed for Adepts,” Chad answered. “The thing knows every Adept’s skill rank, military rank and can dynamically deploy and constantly adjust an entire army. What I can’t figure out is the scale. There aren’t a million Adepts in the worlds.”

“Not yet,” Jensen answered. “But the number is increasing logarithmically. We will be at over a million Adepts in a few years.” 

“If we can hold out that long,” Dick said, all of his usual humor gone. 

The displays ceased to blur with information, and Chad turned to face Jensen and Jared. He crossed his arms over his chest and stared at them appraisingly.

“So what did you do?” he asked.

“We didn’t do anything,” Jared answered.

“Nope, you did something. During that scan thing you were doing, I definitely felt something.”

“Like what?” Jensen asked.

“Like a boost. Like everything was sharper, clearer than normal. I could do more faster and better. So what did you do?”

The two cadets shared a look before Jared answered him. “We didn’t do anything. I mean in the past we have been able to sort of amplify other Adepts’ abilities, but all we did was watch this time.”

“Hmmm, you may think all you did was watch, but something was definitely different.”

“So you two are psionic amplifiers?” Dick asked incredulously. 

“We’ve done it in the past,” Jensen shrugged. “We haven’t done it much, but a couple of times, it’s come in handy.”

“I would keep that between yourselves,” Chad said darkly.

“Only a few people know,” Jared said. “Some of our friends…”

“You don’t understand,” Dick interrupted him. “You need to keep it a secret like this room is a secret. Do you have any idea what would happen to the two of you if word got out that you could jack up the abilities of the front line?”

Cold seized their hearts as the implications of what the two older men were saying sank in.

“You have to remember,” Chad said soothingly, “when an entire race is faced with extinction, people choose to do things they would never do otherwise.”

_________________

Jensen and Jared expected to be dismissed as Chad and Dick went to report their findings to the Justicar. Instead, they had been dragged along. If anything, Morgan appeared more disturbed by the true nature of the detector than they were. Something was up, but he wasn’t sharing the information. He also shared Chad’s and Dick’s assessment on the need to keep Gemini’s amplification abilities tightly under wraps. Less than ten minutes into the meeting and the cadets had a powerful suspicion that things were going less than spectacularly in the capital. 

“I need them, Jeff,” Chad said gravely. Clearly he was referring to Jared and Jensen. They had never seen him so earnest. Apparently, the Justicar hadn’t either.

“For what?” he asked gruffly.

“You know what. I have to crack it. It’s not an option anymore, and they are the only ones who can make that happen.”

“You can crack it,” Morgan countered.

“Yes, I can. In probably ten to fifteen years, which doesn’t do anyone any damned good. With them, I can do it in days.”

“You don’t know that,” Morgan retorted.

“Honestly, Jeff, with their help, I think I can do it in a matter of hours.”

“You want me to smuggle two of the most high-profile people in the Republic into a top-secret facility in Celestus?”

“If anyone can pull it off, it’s you.”

“Spare me your flattery, but you might have lucked out on this one. ConEx has asked for Gemini to make an official appearance in the capital. His annual banquet is in two weeks. Normally, I would have declined on your behalves due to classes, but given your present schedules, I am leaving the choice to you.”

Jensen asked, “If we say yes, would we be able to help Chad?”

“I think it could be arranged,” Jeff answered.

“Our schedules aren’t the only reason you are considering this,” Jared stated.

Jeff paused, considering the two young men before him. “No,” he answered softly, “but at the moment, I don’t want to divulge any further information.”

“Then please inform ConEx that Gemini would be honored to accept his gracious invitation,” Jensen answered formally.

_________________

Tom sat up straight in his bed, his skin cold and clammy with sweat and his breathing coming in rapid gasps. His heart beat so violently he felt it against his ribcage. Never had he experienced such pure, black, impenetrable terror in his life. That he had no clue as to the cause only made it worse.

This horror was not his. 

Before he got his breathing back under control, the door chimed, and he had no sooner voiced the “come” command, than Erica was across his quarters and crawling into his arms. He could hear her softly sobbing against his shoulder. Thankfully, he could focus on her and let go of his own troubled condition. When she finally calmed, her breath only soft, regular puffs of air against his naked chest, he said “That’s the third time in a month.”

Erica just nodded, squeezing him tighter. He knew that the coming morning would spill the members of their little clique out into the cold with dark circles under their eyes. The nightmare, the only thing Tom could think of that would produce that kind of terror in the middle of the night, apparently bled over from Jared and Jensen and onto each of their friends. Raidon had subtly checked around to see if anyone else suffered from their same nocturnal problems, but it seemed confined to them. Tom theorized that Jensen’s and Jared’s shields, logically weaker when asleep, couldn’t prevent the overflow of emotion. They stopped most of the campus from suffering, but they apparently could not protect their friends. 

Given the extraordinary pressures on the two young men, no one in the group brought it up. No one mentioned anything about it in their company. Alona suggested that the fact that neither of them had put together the exhausted faces around the mess table only after the nights the nightmare hit them proved they were overtaxed, overtired and overstressed. The rest of the group would endure silently, unwilling to add more to the burden. 

Everyone felt powerless. They could see, hell they could feel, the impact this had on their two friends, but they could do nothing to help. That evening, they agreed to meet, briefly, in the Uncommon Room, before they sought their own beds and hopefully an uninterrupted night’s sleep. What they didn’t expect was to walk in on Misha, Jager and Sasha sporting equally bruised eyes and haggard appearances.

“You, too, huh?” Misha said, half a smile seeming to be all he could muster.

Everyone filed in and dropped into their accustomed seats, most letting their heads loll back on the cushions. Before anyone could even speak, Misha said “I have no idea.”

A few puzzled expressions greeted his proclamation. He explained, “I have no idea what to do to help them get rid of the nightmares. I have no idea how to block out the feelings, and I have no intention of telling either one of them and make them feel guiltier than they already do.”

“Guilty?” Alona exclaimed. A quelling look from MIsha forced her to pause and consider her friends. “Guilty,” she quietly said.

“Do you at least know what the hell the dreams are about?” Chris grumbled.

“I do, and you know I can’t betray their confidence,” piercing blue eyes shot back at him.

“All I can tell you is that they have talked about it, which might help. Or, if this is oracular, the frequency will decline precipitously as we get closer to the event, but the severity of each will get much worse,” Misha rattled off with a calmness he didn’t feel.

“Like the battle,” Nazomi whispered. 

“What can we do?” Eric asked.

“Distract them.” Jager’s gruff reply startled them all. “They stay in their own damned heads too much as it is. Do whatever the hell it is you all do for fun. Go foam old Dr. Edlund’s office. Anything to take their minds off all the crap they have to deal with.”

Sasha snorted. “You realize you just gave cadets permission to deface PsiMin property? Are you tired or drunk?”

Jager growled in response. “I didn’t give any of you brats permission. It was merely a suggestion of what I imagine reprobates such as yourselves would do.”

“You really think we don’t know everything you got up to while you trained here?” Mike smirked. 

“He has a shrine to you in the back of his wardrobe,” Chris chuckled. “You’re like his demented hero.”

That earned one of Jager’s few smiles. “You’re a good kid, Mike. And by good, I mean you’ll probably be on KP duty for most of your adult life.”

Mike seized Chris’ hand and held it to his chest. “He spoke to me, Chrissy! He spoke to me.” The hand proceeded to smack Mike. “He doesn’t like to be called ‘Chrissy’ in front of you all,” Mike whispered precisely loud enough for everyone to hear him. Another smack echoed in the room, and Mike furiously rubbed his abused chest while mouthing “OW” over and over. 

A comfortable quiet settled over them all, the tensions and worries of the day and previous night broken. Raidon’s soft snores earned sharp laughter from everyone, jolting him awake. 

“Go crawl to your quarters,” Misha ordered weakly. “All of you.”

No one argued, but it took several minutes before Alona managed to pry herself out of her seat and haul Raidon up from his. The others followed suit, until only Tom remained, standing over Misha.

“We can’t call ‘em on this stuff,” he began quietly. “They worry about us too much as it is. We are counting on you to do what we can’t.”

Bright blue eyes pinned him in place. “I know, Tom. I’m doing everything I can. I know you guys are, too, but Jager’s right. We need all of you to draw them out. Have some fun. They desperately need that balance.”

Jager looked around blearily. “Did he say I was ‘right?’ Sasha? Did you hear that?”

“I heard nothing,” she mumbled. “Now, shutup and go to sleep.”

Tom smiled, and for the first time that day, it shown in his eyes.

_________________

The next meeting of the tactics class drove home the point to both Jensen and Jared that this simply wasn’t working. They began to fear that they would never manage to get any empath to see phenomenoptically. Dispirited and quiet, they walked down the empty corridors, staring at the floor as they went. It was this pathetic sight that met Misha Collins as he took over watching the boys from a concerned looking Sasha. They said nothing, but the exchanged looks were enough. He led them through the Core, blessedly quiet as the rest of the cadet body was tucked away in their classes. When they reached the Spire, teleporting up to the room Misha used for meditation training, he watched them settle into their poses and close their eyes.

Recalling vividly his earlier discussion with Tom, he had no intention of letting this pass undiscussed.

“Start talking,” he said quietly. Jared and Jensen sat motionless, not opening their eyes.

“ExTac is failing miserably,” Jensen finally answered voice heavy with defeat. They were both looking at their mentor now. 

“The empaths aren’t getting it,” Misha stated flatly. 

He listened as the cadets explained the seemingly insurmountable obstacle facing them. Misha could understand the difficulty. He had made up the word to explain the strange “sight” the two young men had. Getting other Adepts to see this, in any form, would be a challenge unlike any other he’d faced. When they had finished, he watched their expressions closely, noted the defeat etched all over them, and paused to consider their options.

“First,” he began, “it looks to me as though you have already given up. I will personally kick both of your asses for that if you don’t snap out of it. When faced with a task you think is impossible, you have always found a way. Always. And that isn’t going to change this time.

“Second, there’s an important lesson here for both of you. You have extraordinary abilities, far beyond anything anyone has ever seen, but power alone won’t solve the problems you will face. You have people all around you who have the one power you lack: experience. None of us are as strong as you are, but we have lived with our gifts much longer than you have. What you have in raw power, we counter with nuance. You both need to realize that you are never alone. The obstacles you will face in your lives, someone has faced them before. You two have got to learn to turn to those around you to help. You would never have told me what was going on with you if I hadn’t asked point blank. Don’t make that mistake again. You hear me?”

“Yes, sir,” they both replied sheepishly. Given that this was the sternest talking to he had ever given the pair, he let the reflexive “sir” pass without comment. 

“Now, you are going to walk me through what you are doing, how you are doing it, and we are going to figure this out. Your idea is the single best strategy we’ve ever stumbled across since the war began. Which is saying a lot considering it’s completely untested. We will figure this out.”

Jensen and Jared sat up straighter, looking less dejected, if not a bit more determined. Misha grinned, and braced himself for a long afternoon. 

_________________

“Holy shit!” 

Tom and Alona stood dumbstruck, their jaws agape. 

“You see this every time you use your abilities?” Tom asked, voice hushed in awe.

Jared smiled softly and answered, “Not every time, but most of the time anyway. It helps us figure out what to do and how to do it.”

“It’s beautiful,” Alona whispered. 

Jensen’s and Jared’s smiles looked as though they would split their faces in two. This was the breakthrough they had desperately needed. Misha stood in the midst of the group, the kinetics watching them all with curiosity, and maybe a touch of jealousy.

“Now you know why I call it phenomenoptics,” Misha smiled.

“You couldn’t have invented an easier word to say?” Mike griped.

“Nope, but I figure that before the term’s out, all of you will have shortened it to phenoptics.”

“Yeah, that works better,” Chris said. “So the feelers clearly go there with the whole phenoptics thing. What the hell are we supposed to do?”

Three relatively heavy objects rose up from the other side of the training room, flew across the massive space, and settle gently in front of the kinetics.

“Kinetics, you need to try and move those objects. Nazomi, you need to try and either electrify the object or draw electricity from it,” Jensen instructed. “Erica, I need you to phase. Chris it’s going to be a little trickier for you. If you can find away to exert some power from your ability, do that. If not, Jared and I may need to work with you one on one to help figure out how to do that if you don’t have anyone in front of you that needs to be healed.”

“Mike has chapped lips,” Chris smirked. “I’ll heal those.”

“They wouldn’t be chapped if you didn’t slobber all over them,” Mike shot back.

It threw Jensen and Jared for a moment. They didn’t think Chris and Mike were romantically involved. Apparently, there were more secrets they needed to discover amongst the group. The snickering around the room lasted a few seconds until Misha cleared his throat.

Jensen smacked Chris on the shoulder and said “You heal those lips, and if you’ve got a trick to cure crazy, try that one too.”

The laughter echoed around the room, and Jensen and Jared marveled at how much better the entire atmosphere in the room was compared to the first three sessions.

“Tom, Alona, you still got it?” Jared asked.

Two nods of affirmation let them know it was time to proceed.

“Everyone else, don’t go crazy,” Jensen said. “We just need enough power to see what you are doing. Save your strength for a little later.”

They had worked with Misha for nearly twelve hours trying to find a way to get him to see the strange world of energy that they took for granted. The breakthrough came when they realized the subtle differences in the waves and motes of power surrounding their mentor when he used his gift. The harder he tried to sense the impulses Jensen and Jared were broadcasting, the clearer the pattern became. They first tried to align their own sensing pattern to his; with the shocking and frightening effect of they actually began to “see” through Misha. Unbidden, the images of how he visualized his power flooded their minds. After a prolonged discussion about this strange turn of events, Misha suggested they use it to help modify his pattern to match theirs when they used phenoptics. 

When it worked, Misha almost passed out. One moment, everything was as he had always sensed it, and the next, the world was an explosion of vibrant sparks of energy swarming around everything like nebulae. For hours, he explored this strange vision of reality, the wild and vivid interplay of energies. From that first time to the present class, he had slipped into the phenoptic four more times. Each time, he still needed guidance from Jensen and Jared to get there, but each time it was also easier. Now, they had successfully helped Tom and Alona make the transition, and their friends seemed every bit as gobsmacked as Misha had been.

The next major challenge, one they had no clear idea how to overcome would be incorporating the others into this web. With three powerful empaths, and Misha’s extraordinary skill, they hoped it would be enough to weave it all together.

“On the count of three,” Jared said. “One, two, three.”

Tom and Alona gasped, seeing a flood of new and varied colored energies join the mix. The kinetics’ streams were focused too narrowly on the objects in front of them. 

“Erica,” Jensen said. “Can you broaden your field? It doesn’t need to be strong, just cover as much area as possible. Kinetics, instead of focusing on your single object, can you spread to try and move all of them? Again, we’re not looking for strength, but width.”

The glow surrounding Erica widened and dimmed; the once concentrated sparks now swimming in a wide field. The kinetics had slowly adapted to the change in orders, until all of their powers were mingling, spread from one end of the room to the other.

They had their web. 

“Tom, Alona,” Jared said. “Do you see it?”

“We see it,” Tom gasped. “It’s astounding!”

“Is it enough?” Misha asked the pair.

“Yes,” Jensen answered. “It’s more than enough. A field of several hundred magnitudes less than this would be enough. The challenge will be spreading the net wider and higher.”

“Congratulations,” the older man said. “You’ve just given mankind the best hope of winning this war we’ve ever had.”

_________________

That evening, in the Uncommon Room, the nine Adepts cheerfully exchanged their individual perspectives on the events from earlier in the day. The energy level remained high. Happy voices mixed with bright laughter buoyed Jared and Jensen, sitting wedged between Tom and Alona on the large sofa. They remained rather quiet, at least quieter, more subdued than their friends, but they shared the joy. 

More than anything, they felt profound relief, like a massive weight had been lifted from their shoulders. This, they thought, accounted for their tiredness. Today represented, for them, an extraordinary leap forward. They knew they had much farther to go, but now, the journey ahead seemed for the first time possible. 

Chris was in the midst of recounting his heroic effort to restore Mike’s lips to supple softness, evoking groans and laughter from the group, when the door opened. Misha walked through, his smile as bright as the cadets, followed by Jager and Sasha. Cheers greeted them, drawing them into the warm embrace of the party. No sooner had the three newcomers selected seats then the door opened again. This time, the Justicar and Optia walked in. Jeffrey smirked at the frantic struggle of the young people to regain their official decorum and spring to their feet to salute their superiors. It was with some effort he didn’t laugh out loud. 

“As you were,” he said. He and Samantha located to chairs across from Jared and Jensen. “I understand there is much reason to celebrate.”

“Yes, sir,” the duo replied. 

“My congratulations to all of you,” the Justicar said warmly. “This is an extraordinary achievement.”

“We couldn’t have done it at all without Misha,” Jared interrupted. “We were completely stuck until he worked with us.”

“Yes, he has given me a full report. I suppose we will have to keep him around then,” Morgan teased. 

The presence of their VIP guests brought down the jubilance of the group, but before long, they had settled into a happy, relaxed reverie that extended into the night. Cadets began to excuse themselves, leaving the room two by two. Nazumi excused herself, and as she left, Jensen and Jared realized of their friends, she was the only one who had not found someone. They made a note to talk with her privately, check on her and make certain she was alright.

Finally, all that remained were the duo and the ranking officers. 

“Do you have your next steps planned,” Morgan asked them.

“Yes, sir,” Jared answered. “Now we begin to spread them further apart. Each time they successfully recreate the psionic field, we will put more space between each of them.”

“How wide are you trying to make the field?” Sasha questioned.

“As far as we can,” Jensen answered. “Hopefully, in time, we can take the ten of us, 12 if Jager and Sasha join in, and spread all the way across the Academy campus.”

“That would allow sufficient room for fighters to maneuver safely,” Jager commented.

“Yes,” Jared replied. “Also, hopefully at that point, we can try it out in fighters, and see how far we can stretch the field.”

“You’ll be using coms to communicate amongst the group?” Jager asked.

“Yes, hopefully we get to the point that each person will be separated by building and distance where we can’t hear each other,” Jensen observed.

“I will set up a secure channel for all of you,” the older man offered.

“We hadn’t thought of that,” Jared commented. “That would be a great solution.”

“Do you plan to start introducing other Adepts into the ExTac class?” Samantha asked.

“Not until we can get the current group to generate a field sufficiently wide to accommodate a lot of movement for fighters. We need to not only have room for our ships, but space between for silicate fighters to pass through,” said Jensen.

“There is plenty of time to worry about that,” Jeffrey assured them. “The front has been completely silent since the battle here, and we have fought this war for 20 years without this tactic. We can manage a few months more.”

The idea that humans could die as they worked out their strategy, without ever even testing it on actual silicate ships, settled heavily on the young men.

“Don’t!” Misha barked. “Don’t take that on yourselves. You both have got to find the balance. If you try to assume responsibility for every life lost in this war, it will kill you. Yes, there is a sense of urgency to test this strategy, but not one moment before its ready.”

Jeffrey watched the duo in front of him, caught wise to what Misha had seen. “This is the sorry, horrible, nature of war,” he began, softly. “Every battle is an attempt to buy more time, and we have to pay for that time in blood. It’s sickening and painful, but we didn’t choose this. Running blindly into field testing would only add to the cost. We move forward only when all of you are ready, and before you protest, your mentors will be determining when you are ready.”

“Yes, sir,” they answered quietly.

“You both look exhausted,” Samantha intoned. 

“We get to relax a bit for the first time since the start of the term,” Jensen answered. “We didn’t realize how stressed we were until the breakthrough came. Now, we feel very relieved but also very tired.”

“Misha,” Jeffrey addressed the empath. “I’m leaving it to you to make damned certain these two are getting enough rest.” Jared and Jensen scowled at being talked about instead of to while they sat there.

“Don’t even start,” Samantha rebuked them. “You want to be involved in discussions about your well-being, then start taking care of yourselves. Since last term, we have had to constantly intervene to keep you both healthy. You show us that you are capable of doing that without us forcing you to, and then we will talk.

“Yes, ma’am,” they replied quietly. “Could we start by asking to be excused to go get some sleep?” Jensen questioned.

Jeffrey smirked at them and barked out “Dismissed!”

The door slid silently closed behind them. The fire crackled and poured out warm, flickery light into the room.

“They have no idea,” Samantha stated quietly.

“No, none,” Misha replied. “If they did, I think they would abandon this altogether.”

“You are certain of what happened?” Jeffrey questioned.

“Yes. I could sense them, fully, inside my mind. It would have taken no effort whatsoever on their part to take over.”

“So, you are saying, they can brainwash anyone, including our best Adepts?” Jager asked.

“Yes, they could. And that’s the real problem. If they knew the technique they discovered had that effect, they would stop immediately.”

“And put an end to the Gemini Defense,” Sasha added.

Before Jager could respond, Jeffrey interrupted angrily “I don’t want to hear a single word uttered about euthanizing them.”

“I would not suggest that,” the kinetic rejoined, watching the incredulous looks on his colleagues’ faces. “I was wrong to ever suggest it. Yes, I still think we are riding the whirlwind with them, but Misha is absolutely right. If they knew the potential this new ability of theirs had, they would stop immediately. They would sacrifice themselves to make this plan work, and get themselves killed in the process. I won’t let that happen.”

Jeffrey paused to consider what the Legionnaire had said, sifting through all of the things that went unsaid. “For now, we leave this. It’s not time to address this head on, but that time will come. And we all have to be prepared. Unfortunately Misha, training them in this task is going to fall on you. You have our full support and we will give you everything you need, but working through this with them needs to happen sooner rather than later.”

“Yes, sir,” he said. “I think our immediate course of action is to introduce Jager and Sasha into the ExTac program. We might as well start looking for solutions to get the team into fighters for drills. I think it’s very clear that step will happen well before the term is out. I want to take the first steps toward training this new ability by intensifying their empathic training. They have power beyond my comprehension, but they lack skill in using it. Might as well start there.”

“Proceed with that plan,” Morgan ordered. “I will be taking them to Celestus in slightly more than a week. It sure as hell isn’t my ideal choice, but it’s unfortunately necessary.”

“I really wish you would reconsider letting us come with you,” Sasha suggested.

“I wish I could,” Morgan answered. “Since Gemini emerged on the scene, you three have become instantly recognizable.”

“And it would be the impolitic choice,” Misha stated darkly. 

Jeffrey nodded, suddenly looking tired and worn. 


	7. Chapter 7

_The permutations of power dominate the focus of history. For the earliest civilizations, it took the form of force. The clash of armies and ego reordered the world century by century. Religions and kingdoms and empires rose and fell by the sword. Then money became the embodiment of power, and that interplay became subtle; the clash of information and ego. We now live without money, without kingdoms. To assume the fluctuation, the acquisition and dispensation of power have gone away is folly of the highest order. In this present age, power has been unmasked, stripped away to its barest essence: the idea. Power no longer wears the frock, the crown, or the jacket and tie. It no longer requires these guises. For better or for ill, we live with it in its purest form: the ideologue._

_— Interview with Consul Legate Teryn Adoyo as entrusted to Pontifex Sryon Toliver in 3172 AT._

 

The capital city rose out of the rocky coast like an alabaster beacon. Its concentric circles were clear from this altitude, the tall, shining towers piercing the sky. The view out of their circling shuttle took Jared’s and Jensen’s breath away. They had been to Celestus a few times in the past, but never by shuttlecraft. They had never seen the city from above. 

Like all major cities in the Republic, Celestus climbed higher than it spread outward. Its footprint upon the primeval shores of the largest continent on Lyrea minimized. The tallest spires reached heights of twelve kilometers, and even they were nowhere near the tallest buildings in the worlds. The trifurcated circle could clearly be discerned, each section slightly different from its neighbors, and each possessing something of the character of the three branches of the Republic. The cadets would be landing closer to the Psi Min tower, the tallest of all the buildings in Celestus, not out of pride, but because of its most recent construction. Frequently, as space became an issue, old buildings, restricted by less sophisticated building techniques, would be razed so that new, taller structures could be erected, accommodating a great deal more people than the old. Celestus rarely had need for increased space, but the advent of the Psionic Ministry necessitated a new structure to house it, and the tower climbed to new heights before completion. 

Psi Min Tower gleamed in the sunlight, its facets designed to specifically mimic a giant crystal. Even the internal structures adhered to the crystalline molecular matrix. The tall, thin edifice tapered slightly as it reached its pinnacle, the top sloping in an array of angles like the edges of a crystal. The transparency of the building, and the way the hexagonal structure reflected and refracted light, often painted the sky in rainbows. Jensen and Jared had long thought it the most beautiful building in the worlds. 

When their craft had finally landed, they and the Justicar disembarked. They were met by a battery of aides who engulfed them and an avalanche of information that threatened to bury them and their leader. The swarm of assistants, never ceasing in their chatter, guided them slowly toward the transport that would take them into the heart of the Psionic Ministry. With each passing moment, the cadets grew more respectful and more sympathetic toward the plight of the leader. They could not fathom trying stand up under the suffocating burden of responsibility under which the man must toil every day.

The only members of the press present were Psi Min’s camera crew, recording the “historic” first visit of Gemini to the capital. The team lobbed a few questions at the duo: how did they like Celestus? Were they excited to attend the banquet? What did they plan to see while in the city? It was all pre-approved, and Jensen’s and Jared’s responses had been rehearsed ahead of time. When the questions stopped, they caught the Justicar out of the corner of their eyes with a small smile. Apparently, they had done well. 

The transport to the Tower could only hold the three of them and the Adjutant Justicar Psionica, Cindy Sampson. It was a nice break from the crush of people in the terminal. The hovercar rose silently from the massive space port, arcing over the busy streets below and spiraling upward around the giant building. They arrived at a docking port in the upper quarter of the building, the ten kilometer climb happened in less than five minutes. Once the car was settled, they exited into a thankfully empty room and took the lift to the Justicar’s chambers on the top floor. 

The vast space covered the entire top of the building, the irregular angles and lines of the crystalline roof folded seamlessly down into the sides of the structure. The entire room was under glastinium. Given the building’s prodigious height, the chances of being surveilled were slim, but sensing their question, Morgan answered “It’s one way glastinium. We can see out, but no one can see in.”

Morgan’s lieutenant and second in command of Psi Min, ushered the group to the large conference table. Scrolls lay waiting for them on the mirror-polished wood surface. They took their seats and the devices uncoiled and began to display their itinerary.

“The scrolls are DNA coded,” Cindy explained. “No one can activate them other than you. You will also take these with you when you leave here. Use them instead of your less secure models at the Academy.”

The two young men nodded, and began to look through the schedule for their lives for the next week. It was less daunting than they had anticipated. Only a few appearances outside of the banquet, and seven small meetings with key figures in the government prior to the big event. Three blocks of time which predominated the mornings and afternoons of the middle of the week had no labels. Jared pointed them out.

“Those are set aside for your black card assignment,” Morgan stated mysteriously. Immediately, the duo knew he meant working with Chad on whatever super-secret project he had going. 

“Tonight, we will settle you into your quarters here at the Tower, and you will have the opportunity to explore the building,” Cindy continued. “I suggest you make no attempt to leave the premises as your faces are well known and you have no hope of maintaining any privacy outside these walls.”

“Welcome to the world of celebrity, boys,” Morgan teased.

“Obviously, the bulk of your itinerary involves official Psi Min functions, however, we have allotted some time for you to see the city in an unofficial capacity,” she explained in her clipped, professional manner. “I have assigned a guide of sorts who will accompany you throughout your visit to the capital.”

The glass elevator shaft in the center of the room emitted a chiming sound as the lift arrived. A solitary figure emerged. Tall, nearly as tall as Jared, with blond hair, brown eyes, and altogether attractive, the young man moved confidently toward the table. He extended his hand to each in turn and introduced himself as Justin Hartley. 

“So by ‘guide,’ you mean ‘guard,’” Jensen said sharply to Cindy.

“Both would be accurate, I suppose,” Justin interrupted. “Frankly, in most situations, you could definitely handle yourselves just fine, but sometimes, Celestus throws things at you that are completely unexpected.”

“He is, in fact, your guide,” Morgan said flatly. “You will not leave your quarters unattended, even in this building. You don’t know the city, you don’t know the Tower, and the very last thing I need is to have to mount a search party to locate you. The fact that Justin is a well-trained security adept is merely a precaution. He does not outrank you, but if he tells you that you need to get the hell out of somewhere, you will consider that order to have come directly from me.”

Jensen and Jared could not mistake the order in those words. They affirmed their understanding, and returned to studying their itinerary.

When they had been dismissed and effectively sent to their rooms, Justin trailed behind them a couple of paces. He gently guided them down the corridors to their quarters for their stay. Inside, the huge room looked to take up a quarter of the floor. The outer walls were uninterrupted glastinium, showcasing a breathtaking view of Celestus. They were only a handful of floors below the Justicar’s chambers, which still placed them well above the other buildings. Glistening just beyond the outer rings of the city, the vast ocean sprawled out far beyond the horizon. Even having witnessed the alpine wonder that was Ouray, the view struck the cadets with awe. 

When they could finally pry their eyes away from the windows, they found a large sitting area with all of the latest holo entertainment equipment, a spacious kitchen and dining area, and to one side, raised at least a meter above the rest of the floor, a sleeping area, complete with an enormous bed. They realized Justin spotted the sleeping arrangement at about the same time they did. They could sense at first he thought a mistake had been made, and then realization dawned. 

“Huh,” was all he said. The peoples of the Republic had long ago eschewed the suffocating and destructive sexual prejudices of ancient Terra, however, those who dove into promiscuity sent up alarms to those around them of inner trouble. Otherwise, people were left to their own devices to find happiness as they may. Academy Psionica Cadets were not allowed to have romantic relationships with their fellows. The inner workings of rank would begin to unravel if sexual favoritism came into play. At the same time, everyone knew that romances carried on throughout the institution, but officially, they were never recognized, and the participants assuredly never flaunted it. To be faced with a romantic relationship out of the Academy that was officially recognized by the highest ranking adept in the worlds had to floor Justin, but to his credit, he schooled his response well.

Jensen turned and gave their guide the once over. “I don’t know how much you know about us, or even what you know that is accurate,” he began. “But, we are never separated for any circumstance. If you receive orders to the contrary, view them as being falsified. If you see one of us but not the other, sound the alarm. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Justin said. 

What little luggage they had brought with them from the Academy had already been delivered to the room, and the pair set about the quick task of putting it all away. In that short time, Jensen and Jared had come to agree they would not hold Justin to blame for a situation they were not exactly happy with. He seemed to be a nice enough fellow, and they vaguely remembered him from school, though he was four or five years older than themselves. They would give him the benefit of the doubt and try to enjoy their time here and his company to the best of their abilities.

However, this entire exchange happened without words, nor any visible sign of communication. Faced suddenly with two cheerful young men who, just minutes before, had viewed him as at best an inconvenience nearly unhinged Justin. 

“So, we assume that feeding us must be part of the agenda, and no one of sound mind would turn two cadets loose in a kitchen,” Jensen said jovially, misrepresenting his culinary abilities. “You obviously know the city better than we do, so where are we going to eat?”

Jared bounced on his toes, the idea of exploring some of the capital, but more importantly, eating, making him excited. 

“You two,” Justin said cautiously, “you can do the whole talking to each other thing without words, right?”

Two guileless and brilliant smiles answered him. “So, I need to get used to being 10 steps behind whatever you’re thinking or doing.”

“Twenty is a safer margin,” Jared offered, amping up the charm.

“It’s a damn good thing you’re pretty,” Justin grumbled as he led his charges out of the room and into the city.

_________________

Misha entered the training room at the normally appointed time and found seven hopeful faces staring at him. He sighed inwardly, and braced himself for what promised to be a difficult and tiring session.

He had been surprised when Tom and Erica approached him the day before Jared and Jensen left for the capital, but he couldn’t argue with their logic. The ExTac course had three normally scheduled periods while their “instructors” were away. Apparently the entire group had gotten together and unanimously voted to continue practicing the new technique even in the pair’s absence. What persuaded Misha more than anything was one simple argument: we need to try to do this without their help. It would take a great deal of pressure off their trainers. 

Misha had never tried to go phenoptic without the assistance of the two cadets. He found that he also wanted to see if he could pull it off without their help. It would go a long way to making the Gemini Defense a practical tactic that the entire corps could be trained to perform. Unfortunately, a mountain of “ifs” stood in between this group and their goal. He didn’t want to admit to himself that he was desperately seeking something to occupy his time while his charges were on the other side of the continent and well beyond his ability to watch over them. At worst, this could prove a distraction. At best, it could be a breakthrough. 

He had spent the previous day in meditation, working toward finding his own way into that strange world of dancing energies. At the end of the day, he had attained the goal once, and the strain of the prolonged effort left him weary. Today, he determined, they would all have to work together. Hopefully, their combined efforts and encouragement would be enough to get them there. 

They spent longer in the training room than the class normally lasted. Everyone there shared the urgent need to make this work, for themselves, for the Republic, but above all, for Jensen and Jared. At the close of the third hour, Misha ordered them all to get to the mess and then rest. The strain showed clearly on everyone. He hadn’t expected any of them to succeed that first day, but less than halfway through; he found his own way without the extra push from the young men. By the end of the session, Alona had gotten there as well, which thoroughly surprised him. He thought that Tom, being the more powerful Adept would be the first of the cadets to succeed. He learned quickly that Alona may have less raw power but her adroitness at using her gift surpassed any cadet of her age he had ever met. Tom didn’t seem surprised at all that Alona reached the goal first. 

The entire experience impacted Misha more than he expected. The kinetics had nothing to do in the entire three our period, but not one of them moved, complained or did anything less than be completely supportive and encouraging of the empaths. He had never witnessed such complete devotion in a group, regardless of age. That evening, he sat down with Sasha and Jager to discuss possibly working with all seven of the Adepts to further their training.

“They are all powerful, but more than that, they are quick and eager to learn,” he explained. “They could all benefit from working with us, and I think it would be better for everyone if they weren’t separated from the boys all the time.”

“I think the isolation has not been good for them,” Sasha added. “They tend to act more on their own now. Maybe if they worked with their friends, it would help them integrate others.”

“Might also keep them out of trouble,” Jager chimed in. “When you feel like you are alone in a struggle, you get reckless.”

Sometimes Jager astounded Misha. His default mode of roughneck tended to make people view him as insensitive. Truth be told, Misha suspected he might be more sensitive than the empaths. He made a note to ask Jensen and Jared if they had ever detected empathic energies from the kinetic. It then occurred to him that maybe that was something he could find out for himself if he could get the hang of activating the phenoptic. 

“I’ll talk to Sam later this week,” he said. “I think it would do everyone, us included, some good.”

_________________

Holograms of strange code hovered all along the periphery of Chad’s lair. Jensen and Jared could think of no other term for it, the walls gleaming with computer equipment more advanced than anything they had seen outside of the Orion Chamber. Not to mention the cloak and dagger routine they had to endure just to get to the place. They were fairly certain the trip should have taken less than fifteen minutes from the tower, but the circuitous route Morgan had taken them took over an hour. None of them wore uniforms, instead clad in head-to-toe black with nondescript hats hiding their hair and faces. 

Now they tried to figure out what exactly the technopath was up to.

“This is the Code,” he said, gesturing to the holograms. “I intercepted this from a private relay network that shouldn’t exist. Their other communiques use an insanely difficult cipher, but I was able to break it. This, however, is silicate code.”

Jensen and Jared stared even more closely at the floating characters. From what they knew of the silicates, this didn’t make sense.

“You don’t think its silicate language?” he asked them.

“No,” Jensen replied. “Silicates don’t have language. Them codifying their communication would make as much sense as the synapses in your brain developing an alphabet.”

“Hive mind?” he asked, clearly startled by the revelation.

“Yes, to a degree that no one has even theorized could even exist,” Jared explained. “They individually function like synapses in a massive mind. Language would be a massive step down from the innate communication.”

“So you are saying this is not in fact code belonging to the silicates?” Morgan asked.

“There is one possibility,” Jensen answered quietly. “The silicates’ ships communicate with them using highly directional sounds. From what we could tell, they don’t interface directly with the machines, but they don’t use visual input either. We are not certain the silicates can see in anyway similar to how humans do.”

“So this could be the code the machines use?” Chad asked, already inputing information into his computer.

“It’s possible,” Jared said. “But something feels very off about this.”

“Chad,” Jensen continued, “You are a cipher expert, yes?”

“The best,” he said with no small amount of pride.

“This looks to be silicate, definitely not human, so you would make the first assumption that the standard frameworks and patterns of human code would not apply.”

“That’s right,” the technopath answered. 

“This doesn’t _feel_ alien,” Jensen said, gesturing to the displays. “Silicates and their ships have this completely unique feel. This feels human.”

“You have to explain a bit more clearly than that, son.” Morgan pushed.

“Anything touched by sentience carries its thumbprint,” Jared tried to explain. “It is often very faint, but it’s always there. We can identify that silicate ‘touch’ instantly. This doesn’t have that.”

“Wait a minute,” Chad interrupted. “You are saying that you can detect the sentient ‘thumbprint’ on inanimate objects, even energy pulses and tell who made them?”

“That might be overstating it,” Jensen clarified. “All humans generate psionic fields. Adepts just generate much stronger ones. We can see an Adept instantly, because their energies all feel a certain way. So, with other humans, it’s a very similar feeling just weaker. The things that humans build or create adhere to that pattern. It’s like an echo of the creative mind that stays with it. Maybe with more training, we could recognize individual thumbprints, but we are nowhere near there yet.”

“We kind of discovered this because of the silicates,” Jared continued. “We needed to try and understand why their energies were so completely alien. We have no idea how they even think, it’s so radically different from how we do it.”

“But this,” Jensen said emphatically, pointing to the code. “This is familiar. It is most definitely human. You ready to try amping up?” he asked the technopath.

“Hell yeah!” came the ecstatic response.

Three hours and an unending stream of “This is amazing” later, Chad had the basic key to unlock the mystery cipher. Decoding the actual messages would take time, and further refinement of the key, but they now knew it was definitely of human design. When Jensen and Jared emerged from the link with the technopath, they found the Justicar watching the entire scene, a stormy expression on his face. However, he remained broodingly silent. 

“I think I can have a translator/tracer program set up in the next month or so,” Chad said gleefully. “I should be able to send you not only this snippet but a variety of others I’ve pulled from the relay.”

Morgan nodded tersely. “Do you need the boys any longer?” he asked.

“No, I think we’ve covered it.” 

With that, Morgan turned and walked out of the room, Jensen and Jared obviously supposed to follow. They waved a brief farewell to Chad, walked briskly to catch up with their mentor. Morgan remained silent throughout the winding journey back to the tower. Once safely inside the building, he told them to go rest, and that Justin would be by to collect them for that evening’s appearances. Then, he was gone.

_________________

The night of the banquet signaled the end of their week in the capital, and when the time arrived to ready themselves for the event, it seemed that the days had flown by. Justin proved to not only be an able guide, but very likable and personable guy. Despite the rocky start, Jensen and Jared now counted him among their friends. 

The evening required their dress uniforms, and for the first time since receiving them, they had to don their new medals and the gold Sentinel fillets. The pair felt the whole getup made them look more regal than their positions allowed. But to not wear them at all would be an unthinkable offense, particularly to the men and women who bestowed the honors upon them and who would all be in attendance.

With what the cadets suspected was millisecond precision, the chime sounded signaling that Justin had arrived. He waltzed in with his usual bravado, and promptly whistled appreciatively. “Well, don’t you two clean up pretty!” 

Jensen and Jared turned to look at the handsome young man in his dress uniform. Jared wrinkled his nose, and Jensen raised an eyebrow before answering, “You are going out in that?”

“Sadly, not all of us can be as devastatingly handsome as you two,” he replied dryly. “And if I’d put any more effort into getting ready, I would have stolen the spotlight from the evening’s star guests. That just would have been tacky.”

“Lucky us,” Jared deadpanned. “We are all aflutter with the care and consideration you take on our behalf.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” Justin joked back. “I’m just a selfless kind of guy.”

He moved toward the door, and Jensen and Jared moved to follow. Jared took the opportunity to pinch Justin’s ass before then entering the corridor. The unmanly squeaking sound he made was intensely satisfying.

He turned to look at the pair, eyeing Jared. “You don’t want to make Jensen jealous.”

“That was from both of us,” Jensen replied cheerfully. “You should have figured that out by now.”

“I don’t do threesomes,” Justin retorted.

“Good thing,” suggested Jared. “You wouldn’t survive one with of us.”

Justin chuckled and moved them out into the hallway. Within moments, they were at the landing platform where a hovercar awaited them. The Justicar stood patiently by the vehicle. Since his strange reaction to the discoveries at Chad’s, the older man had remained uncharacteristically quiet. He never offered up any insights into why he seemed so taciturn, and the cadets never bothered to ask. Scanning him would be unthinkable. They only hoped that when the time came, he would share with them what had so troubled him.

When the doors had been sealed, and the craft had begun its journey, Morgan looked at the two cadets. “We will be guests of the Consul Executus tonight, and we will all be staying in rooms at the Basilica,” he said. “Your things will be sent on, and will be there by the time we retire. Hartley will be in an adjoining room. I will be across the hall.”

The pair nodded their understanding. 

“You have both done very well this week, and I have no concerns about this evening. As is custom, all of the leaders of the Republic will be attending. As Ryselle’s personal guests, you will be seated to his left at the head table. Justin and I will never be far from you.”

“Yes, sir,” they both answered. 

Outside the hovercar’s windows, the city grew older, as they moved toward its center. The Basilica Prima, home of the Consuls and the heart of the executive branch of government, sat nearest the center within the exec triarc. Being nearly 2,800 years old, the structure sat dwarfed by the surrounding towers, boasting only some 300 floors, but like all ancient buildings, it possessed a charm and gravitas that only age can bring. Two towers on each end marked the highest points, but the Consul Executus’ residence and offices sat squarely in the middle. Some likened it to a palace, though the monarchic connotations were frowned on in the Republic. Each ConEx served for six years, elected by the people of the worlds. Ryselle had served two terms and was beginning his third and final one. The strenuous demands of the job ensured that few men or women served more than two terms, but the war and the desperate need for a sense of permanence persuaded the man to seek a third. 

The Basilica loomed in front of their car, lit up in all of its nocturnal glory. History noted that some five-thousand stone masons had hewn the columns, statuary, and ornate fascias by hand over a period of a century. The masonry climbed to about the mid-point of the structure, giving away to glastinium, giving the edifice the appearance of crystal emerging from stone. It was an exceptionally beautiful building and arguably the most readily recognizable in the worlds. Their craft darted toward it, dead center, as massive stone doors in the façade opened to expose a dock. 

Once the car had settled into its berth, the doors opened revealing eight Executus guards, in their formal royal blue finery. Their silver galea and the high, proud crests of horse-hair in rich blue gave them weight, presence and distinction. They saluted as the Justicar, the cadets and their escort emerged from the car, only dropping their hands when all four had returned the recognition. Morgan, Jensen, Jared and Justin were surrounded by the guard, and then escorted through the dock toward the large ornate doors marking the entrance to the Consuls’ residence.

The hallways of the Basilica were stunningly crafted in exotic looking stone. Blue, grey and silver played out in geometry across the floor, walls and ceilings. Even at this hour, prior to a major event, many administrators still moved through the building attending to the business of the Republic. Without exception, they all stopped to stare at the escort and its guests. None moved to speak, but many saluted, even though they held no military rank. The few armed forces men and women they passed saluted and remained at attention until the group had passed. 

The deeper into the Basilica they walked, more flourishes in the decor were visible.. Giant plants with exotic looking flowers filled the empty spaces between each of the many support pillars. The stone floor became carpeted down the middle in a deep, rich, thick royal blue weave, with designs of the other Executus colors woven in. Even as the building’s appearance became softer, less severe, the repeating message of “power” exuded from every surface. Their escort led them to a lift at the end of one of the long corridors they traveled. When the doors opened, the back of the lift looked to be carved out of crystal, and beyond the glastinium, a massive indoor garden thrived. Trees countless meters tall, plants and flowers of numbers and types beyond description stretched across a space the cadets estimated to be at least three kilometers wide and at least as deep. Waterfalls poured down high rock walls, and even though the lift denied them the ability to hear, they felt certain mingled in with the roaring of the water would be countless sounds of wildlife. Here, in the literal heart of power of the Republic, the atrium served as an ever-present reminder of what had been lost with Terra. 

When the lift doors opened, the escort led them out and immediately turned right, opening ornately carved wooden doors at least 100 meters tall. They no doubt swung open with a mechanism, but whatever device set the doors in motion, it made no sound. Beyond the doorway, the Maddox Ballroom sprawled out in front of them. The ceilings of unbroken glastinium some hundreds of meters above let in the splendor of the evening sky. The warm solar glow of sunset set the room alight. The entire back glastinium wall showcased the capital city and the ocean beyond. The opposite wall remained open, a balcony railing overlooking the enormous indoor garden.

Before Jensen and Jared could acclimate to the grandeur around them, the guard at the head of their escort, in a voice so loud it had to be amplified, announced “Presenting Sentinels of the Republic, Centurions Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki. Presenting the Justicar Psionica, Defender of the Republic and High Guard of People, Jeffrey Dean Morgan.”

At the first syllable, the clatter of crystal glasses, the chatter of scores of men and women immediately silenced. Following the formal announcement, vigorous applause flooded the hall. Spotting the Consul Executus walking toward him, Jensen and Jared bowed formally at the waist, while the guard came to attention, their sabers presented, the polished blades held upright by a hand at the beltline, perfectly perpendicular to the floor, the gleaming and no doubt razor sharp tips stopping three centimeters below the crest on their galea. Morgan bowed his head to his superior, in the manner befitting a man of his high office. 

“Welcome,” Tomis Ryselle greeted them warmly. “We are most humbly honored by your presence.”

“The privilege is ours, Executus,” Jensen and Jared replied in unison.

“You are dismissed, Legionnaire,” the consul said to the head of the guard. The unit turned sharply and marched to the wall, spreading out perfectly evenly to match their counterparts along the stone wall opposite them. Given the size of the room, the cadets estimated at least fifty of the Executus Guard watched over them. It provided a strange sense of calm and safety. 

Ryselle and Morgan immediately slipped into easy conversation, making their way across the polished stone floor. Jensen and Jared fell in line behind them, with Justin two paces behind. They finally took a moment to look around. There were approximately 500 people, all dressed formally, elegantly in tailored suits and dresses in rich colors. Surprisingly, no flashy jewelry or outlandish costumes caught the eye, unlike the holofilms they had seen. The entire affair seemed very understated, but even in the simplicity of attire, the undercurrent of power continued. A few faces seemed familiar, people they had seen in the media. Most were unfamiliar to them. 

Something felt decidedly off, but the cadets struggled to pinpoint the problem. The wrongness wasn’t pervasive. It came in flashes, but they couldn’t even discern precisely what had them on edge. Before they could spend more effort sorting it out, their procession stopped in front of the Praetor Primus. They saluted out of habit, and were met with a warm smile from the high-commander.

“At ease, Centurions,” he said kindly. “For the duration of the evening, you are excused from attention.”

“Yes, sir,” they responded. 

“I am glad to see that you are well,” Andres continued. “I am equally surprised that the Justicar relented to let you attend.”

“They have to learn to navigate the treacherous waters of diplomacy sooner or later,” Morgan answered casually, taking a tall, stemmed crystal glass from a passing tray. “I figured it would be best to toss them off the deep end now.”

Ryselle laughed, richly and genuinely. “I so often forget you prefer scrolls to people,” he ribbed the Justicar. “You handle diplomatic issues with such aplomb it’s hard to remember you weren’t groomed for it.”

“I’ll take the complement over the insult,” Morgan retorted with a smile.

“Which would explain your success,” chimed in Andrew.

The entire exchange caught Jensen and Jared wrong-footed. They knew Morgan as Justicar and mentor. They forgot that he traveled in the most rarified stratum of power in the Republic. To see him banter effortlessly with the military high-commander and the leader of the worlds set them aback. It gave them new appreciation for the man, but even more so, for the time that he consistently took to help them. The experience humbled them greatly, and increased their respect, admiration and affection for him.

Another group of dignitaries moved closer to their own. At the center, they recognized Andre Fayon, the Princeps Senatus, the appointed leader of the Republican Senate. Some dozen men and women who the cadets could not name moved alongside him to where the cadets and the three leaders stood talking.

The exchange of formal greetings volleyed back and forth between the two groups. Jensen and Jared were properly introduced, but most of the names and titles washed over them. 

“Our young heroes,” Fayon said, turning his full attention to the cadets. “The debt we owe to you, I fear the Republic can never repay.”

“No debt is owed, Princeps,” Jensen answered. “We serve the Republic, as do you. That we could be of use to her is honor enough.”

Fayon’s pale blue eyes never left Jensen’s face. His long, raven black hair fell around his cheeks, but did nothing to soften his features. The man possessed a striking presence, and his appearance communicated clearly the shrewdness of the leader. “You are kind,” he said placidly. “And most well-spoken. Gemini has brought hope to a hopeless situation. You have reinvigorated us all, and for that, you have my personal gratitude.”

“We are humbled by your kind words, sir,” Jared responded. Both young men bowed, as the Princeps and his party took their leave. As they watched the man’s back, it struck them. 

What had felt off the entire time they had been in the room had nothing to do with the presence of something unusual. The absence of the usual had discomfited them. Even with their mental barriers up, they could always feel the persistent hum of the minds of people around them. Every person they had ever met emitted a type of noise, their thoughts and emotions transmitting without them knowing it. Here, that noise wasn’t gone, not completely, but some individuals emitted an odd pattern. Now, that they could define the problem, they noticed the strange voids here and there around the room. Approximately twenty people scattered throughout the attendees all had this uncomfortable artificialness to their mental emissions. With senses focused, Jensen and Jared silently set about piecing together the problem. 

The emotions projected by these people all felt the same. No two people they had ever met before matched in this way. To their mind’s eye, the color, timbre and texture of these emotions varied far too little. Their thoughts, however, sounded like a mantra, a chanting. They couldn’t distinguish individual sounds but the cadence all matched up. 

And the most notable example was the Princeps himself. 

The entire situation made their blood run cold. They couldn’t pull the Justicar out of the room and tell him what they’d found. They weren’t even sure of the implications of it all, but they could make note of everyone present who had the strange signature. While Morgan, Ryselle and  Andres continued chatting amicably, they turned to Justin, who had remained completely silent and still from the moment they entered the room.

“We are having hell with names,” Jensen whispered to the older adept. “Do you know all of these people?”

Justin smirked. “Yes, I know them well enough to tell you their names and titles. Some more than that.”

For the next ten minutes, Jensen and Jared whispered descriptions and locations, and Justin gave them names, titles, and for most, brief biographical sketches. The pair did their best to commit the names to memory. 

“You are either picking people at random,” Justin said softly when they had stopped hounding him for names, “or you are choosing these people for a very specific reason.”

The cadets paused for a moment, considering the ramifications of telling their new friend of their suspicions. He was obviously trustworthy. They decided it might help to have an outside perspective.

“Read them,” Jared whispered. “But don’t make a sound, don’t respond in anyway.”

They continued to watch their leaders, but tried to sense Justin as he read one of the people they had pointed out. After the third attempt, he hadn’t sensed what they had.

“Read the woman in red who is standing next to Fayon,” Jensen whispered. “Then read him.”

After a few moments, their friend clearly got it. His quick intake of air, and the feeling of alarm coming from him told them that much. Before any of them could say anything further, the chime for dinner sounded.

_________________

The vast head table in the hall could easily seat 100, but as Jensen and Jared approached it, it looked more like a giant game board. Whatever game they walked into, they had no idea the rules or even the stakes. They suspected the players they had identified were supposed to have passed under their attention. The only strategy they could fall back on was ignorance: pretend they knew nothing.

ConEx subtly gestured for them to follow him, the pair found their seats to be very near the head of the table and immediately to the leader’s right hand. Clearly, their host had a clearer idea of the rules of the game than they did. Attendants lined the perimeter of the table, pulling out chairs, bringing beverages, and seeing to the needs of the diners. As their chairs were pushed into the table, the sight of Morgan settling in directly across from them gave them comfort. Hartley was seated further down the table, but not too far. They needed to get through dinner, and then, away from the capital and get Morgan alone to talk about what they had discovered.

The inane small talk had resumed all around them, but now, they suspected more might be going on underneath the chatter. Their involvement in the “conversation” required little to no concentration, so they decided to try something. Given the level of dexterity required to create the blocks in the people around them, they had no desire to try anything overt. They opened their senses, taking in the minds surrounding them. 

At first, the noise was deafening, but the din faded into coherency. The people who had blocks stood out now, their quiet sameness becoming more evident. The others, however, broadcasted a new level of depth to what was going on around them. Allegiances became clear, traps hidden in seemingly benign words revealed. As they acclimated to the mental noise, they found that the mental blocks were far from impenetrable. 

Pushing back the sensations emanating from the others, if they focused on Fayon, faint feelings emerged. What came across with shocking clarity from everyone else was a whisper from the Princeps. But there, just beneath the surface, all that should be hidden, they could sense. The woman to Fayon’s left, a representative from Kruis, had asked him a question that he had replied to politely enough, but his emotions painted a much different picture. Annoyance, disdain, contempt, and an odd sense of reluctance dominated his mind. They wished fervently that Misha had been with them, given that their own experience as empaths was far less than their mentor’s. 

“Given the complete lack of activity on the front,” said a rather severe looking older woman a few seats down from Morgan, “I suggest that after facing off against our two young gentlemen here, the silicates have thought better of pursuing their attacks.” She smiled ingratiatingly at Jensen and Jared.

“You are very kind,” Jensen answered, “But given that what we know and understand of the silicates wouldn’t fill a child’s scroll, I would question that we can make any valid assumptions about our enemy.”

“Spoken like a true strategist,” Hollis smiled, saluting them with his glass. He set his drink down, gently fingering the crystal stem. “Sadly, we will likely know when the silicates stop this war when we know why they started it. That said, we share your hope that the bloodshed has come to an end.”

A chorus of affirmations sprang up around the table. Jensen lifted his glass, Jared a moment behind him. Jared said clearly, if not with a bit of sadness “To the end of the war. May it come before another life is lost.”

A moment of silence settled like a heavy blanket over the room, but for them, the guests were far from quiet. One grabbed their full attention. From Fayon they felt the strangest combination of emotions: respect, fear, suspicion, and pity. The pair sat stunned, whatever they expected to sense from the Princeps, this was not it .Only when their attendant set the appetizer course before them did they snap out of their stupor. 

Morgan would look over them frequently, as if trying to read their expressions. They had much to share with their commander, but it would have to wait. 

The meal passed with less conversation, but the cadets did not cease their psionic observance of their fellow guests. The food was superb, and plentiful, though they refrained from drinking the spirits offered. The dessert course arrived, accompanied by a tiny glass of fortified wine. The aperitif, they learned from the excited table conversation, was an ancient Terran tradition, meticulously recreated by a Lyrean vintner. It was a delicacy of extreme rarity, and both young men realized it would be rude to refuse. As their attendant moved behind them, setting their dishes on the table, his arm came into close proximity with Jared’s shoulder and they sensed something was off.

Schooling their features to reveal nothing, they tried to sense what about the young man alerted them. His mind seemed untroubled, but strangely fixated on the small glasses. His attention would dwell on the tasks immediately before him, but regularly, as if forced to do so, it would return to the crystal glasses with the deep, dark red liquor, but only the glasses in front of Jensen and Jared. 

The two young men watched as the rest of the table finished the rich, chocolate froth and empty their glasses in one swallow. They both picked up their drinks, and as they lifted them toward their mouths, they knew instantly what was wrong. They shared a meaningful look, and prayed they weren’t about to make a grave error.

As one, they drank the poisoned wine.


	8. Chapter 8

_The ancient religions taught that all we do should be evaluated by one simple metric: would we want someone else to do the same to us? An elegant test, but easily corrupted. I find the majority of the sins of men, to the perpetrator’s mind, hold to the rule, but the flaw in the logic is clear: the sum total of action is not what should be measured, but every individual action, be it thought, word or deed, leading to that sum must pass the test. Means to an end invariably prove to be unethical, and worse, an anesthetic on the soul. By this lie of omission do humans become monsters._

_— Excerpt from the High Court’s decision re: Tamnagar v. The Republic, written by Consul Legate Laristar Atwon in 1157 AT_

 

The gentle clink of the crystal as it made contact with the glasslike surface of the table chimed unnaturally loud in their ears. The chemical in the wine was meant to work very slowly, presumably to reach full potency well after dinner had ended. The world around them slowed, it seemed seconds lasted minutes. The strong, loud, measured beats of their hearts echoed in their ears. They felt the drug in their guts, sluggishly trying to seep into their veins, to begin moving through their bodies. It would moment by moment make them drowsier, finally bringing them to excuse themselves from the banquet, and return to their quarters. 

They could feel the very shape, the structure of the poison. They could feel how it broke up, and began to spread through their stomachs. Enzymes moved to counter, acids boiled, but the alien chemical did not slow. A certain type of enzyme seemed to impede it, particularly when it attacked a specific end of the molecule chain. If only the enzymes could coordinate, attack every molecule of the poison at the weakest point. And then, that was precisely what happened. The molecules, weakened by the assault began to break apart, exposing new weaknesses. As the new flaws in the chemical appeared, different enzymes latched themselves to them. Finally, the last remnants of the drug disappeared. 

Their attention moved outward to the people surrounding them. The first thing they saw was Morgan looking at them with a mix of curiosity and concern. They smiled reassuringly at him, reorienting themselves to the chatter. The last of the dishes had been cleared, glasses filled and they guessed they had about ten minutes before they needed to feign tiredness and excuse themselves to their quarters. 

They threw down all psionic barriers between themselves and the other guests, trying to get some sense of who present had tried to drug them. The chemical did not appear to be lethal, but undoubtedly had been intended to knock them both unconscious for an extended period of time. Someone wanted them out cold, and they needed to find out who. Unfortunately, even the blocked dignitaries seemed to be unaware of the plot. Fayon, who had instinctively been their first guess, displayed none of the emotions of someone who had just witnessed the execution of a difficult plan. It made a level of sense: whoever wanted them incapacitated would most likely not want anyone near them who might give the plan away. It did not, however, help them understand precisely what game was being played.

They both methodically displayed signs of fatigue, yawns and eyelids drooping. Finally, they rose, begging their host’s forgiveness and asking his leave. Jeffrey rose as if to go with them, and they assured him that they only sought their beds and he should remain at the gala. Hartley followed them out. 

As they navigated the large, empty corridors, they meditated on what they had learned tonight. In addition to what they had discovered with Chad, powerful, shadowy figures worked from the periphery and their reach extended into the halls of highest power. Now, they found themselves in the very center of the web. As they neared their quarters, they knew a spider would come for them shortly.

They bid Justin good night, and went about their normal pre-bedtime activities. Finally, they climbed into bed, wrapping around each other, and waited. They tried to slow their heartbeats, make their breathing shallow, while trying to maintain a level of consciousness. They silently thanked Misha for his extensive training. 

Drifting in that limbo between wakefulness and slumber, they couldn’t be certain how much time had passed, but they heard the door latch unlock. The door mechanisms throughout the residential wing of the palace would never release the lock without the proximity sensor chiming, to alert the residents of a visitor and without receiving a command to unlock from the inside. Even for maintenance, the chimes would sound and no entry would be allowed if the room held inhabitants. Overriding this without triggering a palace-wide security alarm would require an extraordinary effort and considerable finesse. 

The large wooden doors slid open, the nearly silent hiss loud in the room. They felt their unwelcome visitors enter. There were of them, large, male and moving with remarkable stealth for their size. They split, one taking each side of the bed. With little effort, Jensen and Jared moved to full consciousness and their assailants flew to opposite walls of the room, pinned high above the floor, their arms and hands spread wide and motionless. 

“Padalecki to Morgan,” Jared said loudly. The intercom system chimed in response to the command. 

“This is Morgan,” their commander answered, his voice deep and gruff from interrupted sleep.

“Sir, we need you in our quarters immediately. We’ve been attacked,” Jared answered him.

No response came through the system, but they heard voices and slapping of bare feet on the stone floors of the hall, through the still open doors of their room. Hartley ran through the doorway first, wearing the standard-issue form-fitting trunks and t-shirt. Morgan followed moments after, looking much the same. They gaped at the two large men suspended above the walls. A small contingent of guards arrived. They bore the insignia of the Consul Executus, but Jared and Jensen recognized immediately that they were also Adepts. Four guards surrounded each of the assailants, their weapons drawn and fixed. 

Once everyone was in the room, the cadets restored the door mechanism, the closed and locked doors giving them some privacy. They had a few moments to act and hopefully get some answers. Unfortunately, their would-be assailants appeared to suffer from the same mental tampering as their attendant at dinner. These two men were now highly confused, disoriented, scared and trying to figure out where they were and what the hell was going on. With a nod from Morgan, they lowered their captives to the ground, where the guards waited to restrain them and escort them out of the room to the brig. 

“I’m bringing in an interrogator,” Morgan said authoritatively. “No one is to see or speak to these men before she arrives. If anyone asks, this incident is now solely in the jurisdiction of Psi Min.”

The captain of the guard saluted and the eight guards and the two attackers left the room silently. 

“Are you alright?” Morgan asked, his face a conflicted display of emotions, concern, anger, fear, rage all warring.

“Yes, sir,” Jared answered.

“The wine served with our dessert was drugged.” Jensen explained. “We knew it was, but we also knew we were being watched. If we didn’t drink it, we would tip our hand too soon.”

“You knew it was drugged and you drank it anyway?” Morgan very nearly yelled.

“Yes, sir,” Jared replied. “We felt certain that we could diffuse the chemical and lay in wait for whoever was sent to collect us.”

“What do you mean, you could diffuse it?” Hartley asked before Morgan could interject.

“Jay’s a healer,” Jensen explained. “Whatever the drug was intended to do, we felt we could counter it.”

“And obviously you did,” Morgan said flatly.

“Yes, sir,” Jared answered. “It was odd, different than anything else I’ve ever done as a healer, but we handled it. The drug was meant to slowly put us to sleep and then induce a coma.”

“So someone was trying to get you out of the main hall, get you in here and then come and take your unconscious bodies.” Justin said, as he tried puzzle together what exactly was going on.

“There’s more,” Jensen said, and explained to Morgan what they had learned at dinner. 

When he had finished, Morgan looked at Hartley. “You sensed this as well?”

“Yes, sir.” the young man answered. “I would have missed it completely too, if Jensen and Jared hadn’t called it to my attention. The very strange thing is this was done to them, not by them.”

Morgan raised an eyebrow, a cue to explain.

“None of these people are Adepts. They have little to no psionic ability. These blocks were put in place by an extremely gifted empath. This isn’t even something they can summon or dismiss at will. These blocks are there, and as far as I can tell, permanent.”

“We have a rogue empath,” Morgan said gravely.

“Sir,” Jensen interrupted. “Our attendant had no idea the wine was poisoned. Someone planted a suggestion in his mind, and he kept fixating on it. All he knew was that he had to get the wine in front of us, and we had to drink it.”

“Also,” Jared continued, “The two men sent to kidnap us, when the plan went off the rails, they had no idea what was happening. They didn’t know where they were or what was happening.”

“All of this is forbidden,” Justin softly responded. “None of this is permissible for an empath. These are first order offenses.”

“First order offenses?” Jensen asked.

“Just like your disciplines have ranked offenses, so do empaths.” Morgan answered. “Empaths are expressly forbidden from doing everything you’ve described here. Using their abilities to force others to do their bidding is the highest offense and is punishable by death.” 

“What about the blocks?” Jared asked.

“It’s never been done.” Hartley answered. “We’ve never seen anything like this, but the fact that it was done to high-ranking officials, the implication is this is treasonous. At least finding the empath shouldn’t be too difficult. There are very few capable of this.”

“If that empath went through the academy.” Morgan said. “The scouting program is not flawless. And I have suspected for some time that since the war began, some Adepts are being hidden.”

“So, there could be more than one rogue Adept out there,” Jensen stated quietly.

“We have at least one working with powerful and influential people, and they are apparently intent on kidnapping the two of you,” Morgan said gravely. He sat silently, completely still for a moment, then rose purposefully. “We are leaving Celestus. Now.”

_________________

Optia Samantha Ferris stormed through the door scowling in fury. 

“Where are they?” she demanded. 

“With the physician,” Morgan replied calmly. “They are alright.”

“You initiate a site-to-point transport from the ConEx Residence, straight to the infirmary here and you expect me to believe they are alright?” she thundered. 

“They were poisoned,” he answered. “But they did something, we don’t know what, and the poison was neutralized. I brought them straight here because I trust our staff and I want to get some idea of what the hell is going on.”

“Poisoned?” she whispered, her anger washed away in cold shock.

“Yes, Sam,” Jeffrey said gently. “Someone tried to poison or drug them tonight. We don’t know which, but they apprehended two men who broke into their quarters tonight.”

Samantha sat heavily in one of the chairs in the waiting area outside MedLab 1. She had been jolted awake by the security alert in her quarters informing her that the Justicar had initiated a STP transport straight to the infirmary. She still wore her sleep clothes and only took time to throw on a pair of boots and a coat. The com system intruded on the heavy quiet of the room.

“Justicar Morgan, sir,” a trembling voice spoke. “The shuttle of the Consul Executus is requesting permission to land.”

Jeffrey raised an eyebrow. “Who is on board?” he asked.

“Consul Executus Ryselle and Praetor Primus Andres, sir,” the voice answered. “No other passengers.”

“They are permitted to land, and have them escorted immediately to my location,” he ordered.

“Jeff,” Samantha said wearily. “You want to tell me what the hell is going on?”

“I will tell you everything I know, but right now, that isn’t a lot,” he said tiredly. “Justin, I want full scans the entire time they are here.”

Samantha startled, noticing the empath for the first time since her arrival. “Jeff, you are having Ryselle and Andres scanned?” Her shock left her voice sounding dry and brittle.

“Right now, no one outside of this room is to be trusted,” he said gravely.

What felt an eternity later, but may have been only a few minutes, two armed Academy guards escorted the two dignitaries into the waiting area.

“Jeff,” Ryselle nearly yelled. “Are they alright?”

Morgan raised a hand to pause the likely flood of questions. “I need both of you to know that you are being scanned. I tell you this only as a courtesy. Tonight, someone tried to poison Gemini. As you know doubt know by now, two men were seized from their chambers in the ConEx residence. As of this moment, everyone is suspect.”

A look of hurt flashed across the ConEx’s face, replaced quickly by understanding and sadness. 

“We don’t know the type of chemical administered, but we know the boys overcame its effects, but there’s more you need to hear, so I suggest you sit.” Morgan gestured for Justin to approach, and the young man recounted the discoveries of the evening. The two most powerful figures in the Republic sat in slack-jawed horror. Samantha held a hand in front of her mouth, struggling to hold in her anguish.

“Of the 139 guests at the banquet,” Justin concluded, “17 had the block in place. Analyzing those individuals, there is one of them in each major committee in the Senate. Your staff, Consul, was not present in any of that number. . However at this point, I suspect that you both will find staff members who have been tampered with.”

Silence sat thick and weighty upon the room. 

“I trust you both,” Morgan said. “But this is the most serious internal threat the Ministry has ever faced. Until Justin signaled that neither of you showed any sign of empathic tampering, I could not share this with you. Add in the fact that these conspirators infiltrated the Residence and it shows something far more sinister at play than I ever wanted to believe possible. The secrecy of this information is of course paramount.”

Before anyone could answer, the door to the MedLab opened and the physician entered. She stopped short, her mouth gaping as she took in her audience. She regained her composure and addressed the Justicar.

“Physically, they are perfectly healthy,” she stated. “I can find no foreign substance in their systems. However, their description of the compound they ingested matched no current records. Padalecki entered the structure into the computer and it matched something from our databases. I have no idea how they know what the molecular structure of this poison was, but it is called ‘chlorolaudnum,’ and it’s not been manufactured in the Republic for over 1,500 years.”

“What is it?” Jeffrey asked.

“It is technically a drug and a poison. Its purpose is not to kill unless administered in very high doses. It was a powerful barbiturate used to induce coma, but the substance was time-released, so that the effect would be a slow onset and once the individual reached a coma state, it would continue to release for an extended period of time. Usually lasting for a period of weeks.”

“There was no trace of it in their systems?” Samantha asked.

“Not per se, however, given their description of the way they metabolized it to negate its effect; I found traces of that process in their systems. I have no doubt that they were drugged, and that whoever administered the drug sought to keep them comatose for a month at minimum.”

“So the two men in my brig were sent to kidnap them,” Ryzelle said numbly. 

“Given the extraordinary powers of those two young men, I could think of no other method to abduct them,” Dr. Bell answered. “If you have no other questions for me, I would like to get back to my patients. I will be keeping them for observation.”

Jeffrey nodded, and she turned and left the room. The quiet snick of the door lock echoed loudly in the waiting area. Morgan stared in the empty space where the physician had been standing for a long moment.

“I invoke Secernere,” he said quietly.

“Jeffrey,” Ryzelle cried out, “no one has invoked Secernere for centuries. You can’t expect…”

“I not only expect, Tomis, I demand it by right of office. You two are bound by oath to comply. You will leave here and do nothing of any sort regarding the information you have heard here. That goes for everyone!” he barked, turning a fierce gaze on Samantha. 

She returned it unflinchingly.

“I will handle this personally, and only the resources I so choose will be involved in the response to this act of war.” he said coldly. “I place the blood of those who will fall during this response on my office.”

Hollis watched him closely, appraisingly. Finally, he said “My oath stands.”

Ryzelle gaped back and forth between them. “You can’t be serious?” The stern looks he received answered the question for him. “We need to take action! We need to launch a complete investigation and find every party involved in this attack!”

“I knew that would be your response, Tomis.” Jeffrey answered. “And that’s why I called your oath. This will not be handled publicly. We will not show our hand. I want to know who is involved, and what their plans are. If we bring this public, they will run to ground. We can’t afford that.”

“Tomis,” Hollis said softly. “I know that it angers you that this happened when the boys were under the shield of your hospitality, but Jeff’s right. This goes deep and forces are arrayed that we do not understand yet. No facet of government is better equipped to deal with this than Psi Min. My oath stands.”

Ryzelle rubbed his hand down his face, exhaling loudly. He sat stock still for a full minute before straightening, looking into Jeff’s eyes and saying “My oath stands, as well.”

_________________

Jensen stood ramrod straight in front of the enormous glastinium window. From this vantage point on the seventh floor of the upper classmen dorms, the entire campus unfolded below him. Heavy clouds rolled across the valley, already a brilliant white from snow, with the promise of more snow to come. Out there, in the circular complex of buildings, Jared went about the business of working in the MedLab. Jensen could see the building clearly, could sense Jared within it, and the distance between them ached. They had not been so far apart from each other since before the Corridor, but they both knew they needed to work on this. For any number of reasons, they had to be able to separate, and that would take perseverance and no small amount of pain. 

Jensen forced himself to relax, feeling his fingernails cutting into his palms. He worked through the meditation techniques Misha had taught them, knowing that if he could achieve a physical calmness, his mind would follow, and that would help Jared. The most unexpected and bizarre effect of this forced parting was the uneasy feeling of being two places at once. He could see and feel and hear everything Jared did, felt or thought. For now, he needed to do nothing, just relax and transmit that calmness to his other half. 

He had completed two rounds of full-body relaxation exercises when he felt her. She had entered the building far below with her mind set on finding him. He waited patiently, continuing to forcibly relax muscles that seemed to automatically tense, until the door opened behind him. He stared unmoving out of the window, but greeted her softly.

“Hello, Alona.”

She didn’t reply, only moved across the observation room to his side. They stood there for several minutes unspeaking.

“You were supposed to keep him safe,” she said, her voice quiet, but her tone accusatory.

“We do,” he answered. “We keep each other safe.”

“And this is why you end up in the infirmary so often,” she snapped back.

“If you are seeking assurances that we will never come to harm, I can’t give them to you.”

“Then what good are you?”

“The only way to achieve your end is for us to leave here, flee to some distant location where no one would ever find us and even then, there aren’t guarantees. We don’t take any of this lightly, you know, and we sure as hell didn’t ask for it.”

“And this? You being here and him being on the other side of campus? How is that helping him?”

“It’s helping us because we have to be able to separate from each other. We are done answering your accusations. We are finished allowing you to scapegoat one of us and coddle the other. You have two choices. You either accept that we are and will forever be joined.”

“Or?”

“Or, you let us go. This can’t go on, Alona. Not for any of us.”

She didn’t respond, just stood there staring blankly out of the window.

“I know I haven’t been fair to you.” she whispered.

“Are you in love with him?” The laughter he got in response shocked him.

“For all your super powers, you really don’t get it.”

“We have never scanned you, you know that.”

“When I first got to the Academy, I was just like all the other new cadets. Terrified, alone and desperate to go home. Jared found me, took me under his wing, and became just like family. He made me feel safe, but you? We were something completely different.

“Granted, I didn’t get to see you much what with age differences, different schools and different social circles. But I saw you. Everyone saw you, Jensen. You were the legendary Jensen Ackles. The golden boy. Damn near everyone on campus wanted to bed you or be you or both. You were my first crush. My unattainable dream. You and Jared never paid any attention to each other. I’m not sure why even now, but I knew. Even all those years ago that you would never be mine. That you belonged to Jared. 

“The mind is a strange thing. I couldn’t be angry at Jared, because he was the most indispensable part of my life. You, on the other hand? Aloof. Inhumanly attractive. Powerful. You I could hate. And then you had the gall to be a nice guy. I thought I could accept it all if you could keep Jared safe, but we’ve seen how that worked out.”

For the first time, Jensen looked at her, examined her profile. He would not scan her, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t search her expression for any trace of a lie. He found none.

“And what about Raidon?” he asked. She turned to meet his gaze, her eyes kinder than he had ever seen them.

“I love him. He’s an extraordinary man. He’s why I came here today. It was time. Just like you said, this discord isn’t doing anyone any good. I needed to unload on you, and frankly, I couldn’t do it with Jared here. I know, I get it. He’s here in everything but body. He’s listening to every word, but I wanted to say this to you alone. The past is passed, and it’s time for me to let it all go.”

“Just that easy, huh?”

“No, not that easy. It’s gonna be hard, but I’ve already started. It seems as though the second you and Jared merged, you’ve been in danger. I don’t think that will change for as long as this war is going on, so I can bitch about it all, or figure out a way to help.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“For one, I can quit acting like I want to cut out your guts with a spoon. But most importantly, I can support both of you. I can accept both of you. And I can do everything in my power to make sure this wild strategy of yours works.”

They stood, closer than they had ever done before, staring out the giant window. Huge, fluffy snowflakes had drifted lazily toward the ground. The snow seemed to grow heavier with each moment. The campus was a picture of serenity. 

“Thank you,” Jensen whispered. She did not answer, but they moved closer together, their shoulders touching, watching the snow fall.

_________________

Misha walked, stiff-backed, into the Justicar’s office in the Academy. He had been summoned a quarter of an hour before the rest of the mentors and the Optia were scheduled to arrive for the meeting. The door slid open at his approach and he entered silently. 

Morgan sat implacably behind his desk, his attention focused on a scroll. Misha didn’t buy the act for a moment. Clearly he had been expected. He stood at attention until his commander set him at ease and directed him to one of the chairs.

“It’s been a week, Misha,” Jeffrey said, his voice and countenance tired. “When can I expect for you to let me off the hook?”

“I should have been called,” Misha said through a clenched jaw. 

“That is your perspective. You were not called not out of oversight but intent.”

“And that is somehow better?”

“I’m going to forget, for now, that you are directly questioning my decisions. I give you leeway because I know what those boys mean to you, but don’t you ever assume for a moment they don’t mean as much to me. You weren’t summoned because I had something vitally important to do and neither you nor the other mentors could be in the room.”

“I assume this has something to do with the secretive arrival of ConEx and Praetor Primus.”

Jeffrey raised an eyebrow at that. “Not so secretive it would seem.”

“No one knows but you, me, whomever gave them clearance to land, their two escorts, and whoever else was in that room.”

“Very well, I’m not going to question how you came by this information, but yes. It involved both Tomis and Hollis.”

“So you knew they would make a mad dash for the Academy as soon as they knew what was going on.”

“Yes. I know them both very well. I had no doubt they would do precisely what they did. I needed them there to hear firsthand all that had transpired that night. I needed them to understand the stakes. Only then could I invoke Secernere.”

Misha stared at his commander dumbstruck.

“And make no mistake,” the Justicar continued. “I am not informing you of this because I in any way owe it to you. You have a role in this and you must execute it perfectly.”

_________________

Samantha, Jager, Sasha and Misha sat silently as Justin Hartley explained what he and Jensen and Jared had learned in Celestus. He related the meetings with Chad, the revelations at the banquet and finally what he knew of the events late that night in the boys’ chambers. Jager looked murderous, Samantha not much better. Sasha looked as though she would be ill. Misha sat strangely quiet.

Morgan watched them all closely. He was taking a tremendous gamble letting these people know of his plans but he trusted them implicitly, especially where the well-being of Gemini was concerned. He needed each of them for this to work. He let silence reign for long minutes, watching the shock wear off and the truth settle into the minds of each person present. 

“In truth, we have very little idea what is going on here,” he finally said. “We know that a group of individuals has set up a secret hyperspace relay system for communicating. We know that we have a rogue empath of considerable skill out there with no regard for the ethics of the craft. We know that strategic and high-placed officials within the government have had their minds altered. The extent of which, we don’t know. Whether they consented to this, we don’t know. We have some person or persons intent on abducting Jensen and Jared, but to what end, we have no idea.”

“As if the fucking silicates weren’t enough,” Jager snarled. “Now we have to worry about our own species? Please tell me you are hunting these bastards down in the streets?”

Morgan smiled. Jager’s passion made him an extraordinary warrior, but a less than effective operative. “No, we are not. We are actively hunting down every piece of information we can get our hands on without drawing attention. The perception to those not intimately involved is that Psi Min has shut itself up like a fortress. We want them to think our response is isolation. What we are doing is anything but. Come.” 

At the command, a panel in the back of the room slid open and a petite but lovely blonde woman stepped out. She wore the type of finely-tailored clothing seen in the halls of power in Celestus. 

“This is Allison Mack,” Jeffrey said. “I believe you know Misha and obviously Optia Ferris.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, and then turned to look at the others present. “And I know of Centurion Nevartus and Legionnaire Archon.”

“Allison was my operative in Senator Martel’s office up until he ran into some trouble,” Jeffrey explained. “Once Martel left Celestus, she was very fortuitously snapped up by Princeps Fayon. She has been keeping a very close eye on him and his associates.”

“I have reported my findings to the Justicar, but given the events of the past two weeks, it was time to come here and work with all of you to form a plan.”

“Isn’t that a dangerous risk?” Misha asked.

“To my cover? To a degree, however, after the debacle at the Residence, Fayon made a show of working for a few days, and then went on holiday. The members of his staff have been granted the same luxury. The only trick was getting here unseen, and making it appear I was quite visibly somewhere else the entire time. At this point, I think the risk is minimal. Particularly given what I need to share with you.

“Fayon is not what he appears. He has always been vocal about fighting the prejudice against psionics, but I have reason to believe it isn’t as humanitarian as he wants it to seem. Fayon will run for ConEx, everyone knows that. The question is only when. I know that he has no desire to run so long as the war is on, and he publicly admits he is not a military leader and would not serve the Republic well during a time when it needs a military mind. However, given a few documents I’ve copied and some of his correspondence, as soon as the war is over, he will run. There is little doubt he will be elected. He’s handsome, charismatic and has supported all of the right things. He’s very popular and it wouldn’t surprise me if he ran unopposed.

“But beyond that, I think his primary goal as ConEx would be to scuttle Psi Min. He has kept his dislike for the rise in power of the Ministry mostly under wraps, but behind closed doors, and out of the range of any Adepts on his staff, he is furious that the Justicar Psionica has more power than anyone in the Republic, probably including ConEx. By advocating psionic tolerance and their key involvement in the war, he will say that Adepts have done enough, paid enough, and that Psi Min is not necessary. I think he will dress it up as a means of ensuring that Adepts never have a 100% draft rate again. 

“If he eliminates Psi Min, he can reconsolidate its power under the executor. I can’t prove any of this yet. As to what his end game is? I have no clear idea. I think, ultimately, Adepts should be afraid of him. I don’t think he has their best interests at heart. From what I have gathered of his personality, those who have power of any kind that he cannot get access to, are ranked as enemies. The problem with Fayon is that it’s difficult to tell who he ranks as friends and who he sees as enemies. He’s that political.”

“So you think he was behind the kidnapping attempt?” Jager asked.

“No,” Allison answered. “He may dislike Gemini and their abilities, but he’s no fool. He knows they are the best hope we have of winning the war. I don’t have enough information of all the shadow play to guess who was behind this.”

She paused, clearly debating with herself. Jeffrey gestured for her to go ahead and say whatever it was she was thinking.

“Pythagoras,” she said quietly.

“The triangle guy?” Jager questioned disbelievingly.

“What about Pythagoras,” Jeffrey softly prodded.

“I have heard that name twice now,” she answered. “And only in the most secretive conversations that I was definitely not supposed to hear. I don’t know who or what it is, but I do know that Fayon and his chief of staff seem to be either afraid or in awe of him. Assuming it’s a person. My best guess, given the situations and the briefest readings of the two I could get off without revealing myself, Pythagoras is calling the shots, and he isn’t sharing information about the grand plan. I don’t know any more than that and even that is conjecture.”

Jeffrey stared intently at the table surface, his finger tracing unintelligible patterns on it. Everyone waited, watching him, as their commander processed what he had just heard.

“Pythagoras,” he finally spoke, “Was a mathematician from a very ancient period of Terra. That’s where you have heard his name before. But, he was also a mystic. His disciples formed a cult of his teachings. Much of what was known of his teachings has been lost to the ages, but we do know that he taught about reincarnation, among other mystical beliefs.”

“So you believe this a code name?” Samantha asked. 

“The computers have no record of a ‘Pythagoras’ born at any point since the founding of the republic,” Allison answered.

All eyes watched Jeffrey, waiting to see if he had any clues that might unlock this mystery.

Finally, he looked up and said, “I am inclined to believe that the head of this shadow organization is this Pythagoras person, but what that means, I don’t know. Allison, I want you to do your best to secure information about this person. I am giving you full access to Chad to do whatever it takes to unravel this enigma. We need to know what it is they are up to, and any glimpse of their master plan. Whatever resources you need from Psi Min, you have them.”

“I understand, sir,” she answered. “If you have no other questions for me, I should be heading back to Celestus.”

“Dismissed,” he replied. She exited through the same hidden door through which she had entered and Jeffrey surveyed the faces around the table. “We are walking along the edge of a knife. We must protect Gemini, and we must not reveal to these conspirators that we know anything about their actions. The foiled plot in the Residence gives us a certain advantage. We can activate security protocols without betraying that we know anything of the actual plan. The other advantage, Gemini gave us themselves.”

“The rogue empath,” Misha uttered darkly. 

“Yes, the rogue empath. Tracking him or her down will prove the most difficult task we have at hand. I have no idea where to even being the search.”

“May I suggest that the next time we encounter a corrupted mind, let me examine the person. I want a chance to see firsthand what has been done. I am certain from that I can piece together how it was done.”

“But not by whom?” Samantha asked.

“Not per se,” Misha replied. “However, I can definitely get an idea of the power and skill level required to do it.”

“Process of elimination,” Morgan stated. “Very well, if possible, I will try to find a way to smuggle you into examine any victims we capture, but it must never conflict with the core mission I have given you three.”

“So what do you want us to do?” Sasha queried. 

“You will accompany Gemini throughout the day. They are not to be out of their quarters without at least two of you as escort. They won’t be happy about this, but it is standard protocol.”

“Yes, sir,” the three mentors answered.

“For now, your only concern is the safety of Gemini.”


	9. Chapter 9

_To flippantly dismiss Tsang Lao as an arch villain betrays the arrogance of his would be judge. In Terra’s twilight, Asia contained over three-fourths of the world’s population. The Water Wars would never yield a winner, because the Himalayan glaciers had all melted. The continent would never again be able to provide enough water for the thirsty billions. From the few records we have of Lao’s reign, I argue he knew this. He never intended the launch of atomics against Russia as a means of victory, but a mutually assured destruction that might save the rest of the species. The deaths of nine billion people and the resultant slight nuclear winter might have been enough to save our homeworld, had it not been for the geological cataclysms that followed. So I must ask you: had his actions allowed humanity to remain on Terra, would he still be reviled as the Beijing Butcher?_

— _Diary excerpt from Justicar Conservator Mishuhara Ito as entrusted to Pontifex Gaius Johannsen in 2570 AT._

 

The weeks following the abduction attempt at the Basilica passed quietly, everyone who knew about the events were subdued and worried. The silicates presented a visible threat, easy to demonize. Now the danger lurked in shadow, without a face. Worse still, the threat came from their own kind. 

Jensen, Jared and their friends set about their task of developing the Gemini Defense in earnest, each session showing considerable progress. The efforts the cadets made while their leaders were in the capitol dramatically improved the overall mood and the timetable. The day before had seen the group spread out across half the campus, ranging from the training room in the northeast quadrant of the grounds and stretching to the Spire in the center. Tomorrow, they hoped to increase the range by another 25 percent. 

The focus and concentration required of all of the Adepts had proved taxing to say the least. Jensen and Jared had begun to look more worn with each passing day. Misha had watched them closely, watched them now as they sat in the lotus pose in the Spire. They had been in stage three for just under 10 minutes when he spoke to them.

“I want you both to focus on reclaiming energy from your surroundings. Before you leave here today, your reserves should be replenished,” he said.

The duo remained motionless, but heard and obeyed their mentor. Since they had discovered their strange new power, their training in empathy had never been more stringent or rigorous as it had become in the past two weeks. Misha pushed them sternly, stretching their abilities and more importantly expanding their understanding of how to use them. They marveled at the new details that emerged. In the phenoptic, they discovered that the motes and spark of power were actually the points of intersection between strands of energy. The strands connected the powers to their sources; sunlight looked more like streams of glowing rain, sparking vibrantly when the strands crossed. Each time they pushed themselves, the strings became clearer, more discernible, and now, they realized, the seemingly infinite strands, tangling together, every so quietly vibrated. The resonance of their humming would intermingle with the powers around them, forming complex harmonies. If they mentally touched one strand, it would sound, changing the melody of harmonics around it. The strange song echoed through their minds, a quiet symphony playing forever, surrounding them and passing through them. 

They had briefly described this new development to Misha, who had smiled and asked them to promise to share it with him one day, guiding his mind as they had done before. Other than that, he had made no further comment about it. Now, as they sought to draw from the ambient forces, the song somehow grew louder, but more soothing. The sunbeams rang deeply. The breeze played a complex chord from the basso to the soprano. The Spire itself, now an unbroken crystalline sextuple-helix, amplified, channeled, and drove the song higher and farther. Never had they experienced anything like it. The music filled every sense. It flowed into them, the feeling of warm silk across their skin, a cool stream of water across their tongues, and it smelled of the heady ozone of a rainstorm. They felt lighter than they ever had before in their lives. Their bodies and minds added complex, mysterious tones to the song. The sound grew louder, the pace and pitch and timbre climbing and building, exultant as though the music had longed for eternity for someone to hear it and now that its audience had arrived the flood of sound had broken through the dam, a torrent unleashed. 

Something pushed against the song, and the song pushed back. The hammering of some intent to break the melody reached a fevered tattoo until it battered their minds. The intrusive sound somehow seemed familiar, urgent, calling to them. They turned their thoughts away from the song, but the song tried to pull them back. The hammering ceased, until a violent crash shattered the peace. Words, no cries, screams, terror washed over them. Suddenly, the phenoptic receded, and they realized the panicked cries came from Misha. Misha, who was at that moment shaking them, eyes filled with tears. Behind him, Samantha, Jager and Sasha stood faces ashen.

“Misha,” they croaked out, their own voices feeling rusty and unused. Their mentor collapsed between them, his arms wrapped tightly around their torsos as his sobs wracked his body. 

“We’re back,” Jared soothed. “Shh, we’re okay.”

Misha’s sorrow and fear rattled them both to their core. They had never seen the man so emotionally unhinged. Jensen ran his fingers gently through the older man’s hair. Jared rubbed his back slowly, providing confirmation that there were there, safe, present and with him.

Jager was holding Sasha in a very similar way, her face buried in his shoulder. The fear in the man’s eyes caused cold to grip Jensen’s and Jared’s hearts. Something had gone very wrong, but they had no idea what. 

Finally, Misha calmed and sat back on his heels, running his hands repeatedly over his face. When he appeared to be more composed, Jensen whispered, “What happened?”

Samantha answered him just as softly. “We are hoping you can tell us.”

They tried to explain what they had experienced but words proved useless.

“You were out for four hours,” Misha stated, his voice wrecked. Only then did they realize the light flowing into the room had moved from early afternoon into evening. “I kept trying to get you back, but nothing worked. Then the Spire started to, vibrate?” He aimed the question at the trio standing behind him.

“It began to sing,” answered Sasha. “Like crystal near a tuning fork.”

“We ran here as soon as the sound triggered the security system,” Jager explained. “It was loud enough to be heard across the campus, and it kept getting louder.”

“How long?” Jared asked.

“It started about twenty minutes ago,” Misha replied. “By the time the others got here, your pulses had all but stopped. I couldn’t tell if you were breathing anymore.”

“We’re so sorry,” Jensen said, overcome by the lingering fear in their beloved mentor. They reached out to him as one and held on.

“It’s okay,” he whispered back to them. “Just don’t do it again.”

Samantha watched them, her eyes tired. “I’m giving you a direct order,” she said. “You are to engage in no activity you’ve never done before without first discussing it thoroughly with all of us. I don’t care the circumstances. Do you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am,” they quietly answered.

“These close calls are about to do us all in,” she said, her words somewhat broken. 

Jensen and Jared vowed to themselves to do everything within their power to prevent any more trauma for their friends. But at the same time, they had no idea how to explain to them, to make them understand.

Because at the moment that Misha broke through to them, when they turned their minds from the song, the music had become a voice.

_________________

“You going to explain what the hell that was, yesterday?” Tom rarely sounded churlish, but at that moment, they knew failure to explain was not an acceptable alternative

The day had dawned bright and, for the time of the year, with subtle traces of spring warmth. The Optia had ordered the lot of them to stay out of their classes and spend some time outdoors. That the three mentors would accompany them went without saying. Twelve figures, clothed in white winter gear, walked into the surrounding woods and vanished against the snowy landscape. Two hours later, they stood as a unit on the Aerie, a rocky precipice 500 meters above the valley floor. The Aerie provided a spectacular view of the Academy and the surrounding landscape. As the others took in the panorama, Tom waited impatiently at Jared’s shoulder.

 Jensen called everyone over to them, and he and Jared explained, to the best of their abilities, what had happened to them in the Spire. Some seemed horrified. Others looked enrapt. All looked concerned. Jared explained that they had a standing order to not engage in any new activity without consulting their mentors first. 

“It’s about damned time,” Erica grumbled.

“We know.” Jensen said. “We aren’t going to take any more unnecessary risks. I think we finally figured out that even the things that seem small and innocuous tend to become traumatic events for all of you.”

“If you would have asked us, we could have told you that months ago,” Nazumi said in her typically placid manner. 

“You’re right,” Jared responded. “We haven’t been talking to you guys enough. But in our defense, we have a lot to manage. We are as new to this as you guys are, and we need you all to help us keep things in balance.”

“So you are giving us permission to meddle?” Tom asked hopefully.

“Yes, Tom,” Jensen laughed. “Meddle away.”

“Oh, we will,” Alona interrupted. “You don’t have to worry about that.” 

A few questions popped up about their encounter with the strange music, and they did their best to answer them. Nazumi seemed particularly fascinated by this new turn of events, and expressed a hope that one day they could guide her to that place. In all of the discussion, the two young men never once mentioned the voice they heard. Their friends seemed satisfied by their answers, but one set of eyes watched them closely the entire time. Misha knew they held something back. Something else happened in that trance, of that he was certain, but now was not the time to try and pry it out of his charges. 

True to form, Chris complained loudly about the absence of food on their small expedition. It didn’t take long for the others to agree that it was time to head to the mess hall. 

The descent took less time than the climb, but more care to be certain their footholds in the snow didn’t give. They still managed to chatter amicably all the way down. 

“You two ready to ski?” Mike asked. 

“Ski?” Jared asked back. “You mean that weird thing when people put wood on their shoes and slide down a mountain?”

“That’s the one! My family would go skiing at least once a year. It’s tricky to get the hang of, but once you do its fun.”

“They don’t have skiing here,” Jensen countered.

“Duh,” Mike rolled his eyes. “Ouray has some of the finest skiing in the worlds.”

“We aren’t going to Ouray, Mike,” Jared explained.

“Huh, it was my understanding you would be spending mid-term break there.”

Jensen and Jared shared a look that clearly conveyed they had forgotten about the break. Out of a sense of contrariness, Jensen protested. “What if we want to go somewhere warm? With beaches and an ocean?”

From behind them they heard Jager and Misha burst out laughing. They turned scornful eyes on their mentors, which deterred them not one bit.

“You do that.” Jager laughed. “Misha and I will video Loretta clomping across the sand to drag you both back to the village by your hair.”

“Not to mention she would probably whip you both for not coming on your own.” Misha joined in.

“And for making her get sand in her shoes.” Jager continued.

The boys fought to hold in a grin, because what had just been described would be the likely result of them choosing to spend the break anywhere other than Ouray. 

Calling out to the rest of the crew, Jensen asked “What are you guys doing for break?”

In startling unison, they all answered “Going to Ouray.” In all, that seemed to settle the matter with resounding finality.

“Don’t worry,” Tom soothed. “Ella gave us all rooms at her Inn.”

“You aren’t getting rid of us that easily,” Sasha answered the overly hopeful expressions on the cadets’ faces. “We’ll be at the cabin with you.”

“So did everyone know we were spending break at the cabin but us?” Jared asked, incredulously.

“It’s a good thing you got yer looks,” Mike drawled, affecting Chris’ accent. “Cause neither one of you are very quick on the uptake.”

They were about to retort when Mike yelped, jumped in the air and turned on a mischievously grinning Chris, who had apparently just pinched his ass.  

_________________

Nazumi Takamura strolled down the quiet corridor of the outer ring of the Core, leisurely making her way to her next class. She may not be an empath, but she knew full well that Jensen and Jared were following her. She could stop and let them catch up, but truth be told, she knew what they wanted to discuss. She would let them work a little harder at it.

For the entirety of their young lives, she and her twin brother, Raidon, had spent almost every moment together. Now that Alona Tal had caught her brother’s eye, everyone noted the separation between the siblings. No doubt they worried about her. Her lifelong companion had, in a way, moved on. The others in the group had paired off. She smirked, not knowing if whatever was going on between Chris and Mike could be called a pairing. She doubted they even knew. 

However, she wasn’t depressed. She didn’t begrudge Raidon a shot at happiness. She didn’t feel excluded or left out. Nazumi had always been intensely practical. Life would eventually pull her and her brother apart. This was known since before they both hit puberty. Weighing down the change with overwrought sentimentality did no one any good. Her friends still surrounded her. Classes kept her more than busy. That Jensen would forget this fundamental aspect of her personality amused her, especially given the worried glances he and Jared kept shooting her way. 

She supposed it was time to let them off the hook.

“Hurry up,” she barked. “You have less than five minutes to conduct your inquiry then I have to be in class.”

Less than two seconds later, they had flanked her. She fought to hide her grin at the obvious tactic to be certain she didn’t bolt. 

“So, Nazumi,” Jensen began.

She rolled her eyes. They didn’t have time for small talk. She proceeded to lay out the entire situation as she saw it, hoping to speed up the process. In short, all was as it should be, and they had far more pressing business that demanded their attention.

“So you don’t miss Raidon,” Jared asked, his eyes large and puppyish since he caught up with her.

“Of course I miss my brother,” she answered. “But this was inevitable. Face it; there were always only two choices for us: die in the war, or hopefully find someone to share our lives with. I can’t be anything but pleased for him.”

Her answer startled the two young men. They had not thought of it in those terms, but she made a powerful point. “I always forget how level-headed you are,” Jensen said fondly. 

“And every time you do, it’s a mistake,” she teased. “The paths we walk down are rarely ever known to us beforehand. Without you two doing whatever it is you do, the two circles would not have merged. Had that not happened, look at the relationships that never would have formed. Tom and Erica are talking marriage. Raidon and Alona are growing closer each day. And Chris and Mike are, well, Chris and Mike.”

“Wait,” Jared interrupted. “Marriage? When did this happen?”

“It hasn’t,” she replied. “Yet. It’s not something I foresee happening for some time. First, the Academy rules forbid it, and then we leave here and go to the front. If the war is still going on, that is. If they want to hold fast to each other through that, I couldn’t be happier for them.”

“We keeping missing things,” Jensen said sadly. “No matter how hard we try, we keep missing major events in our friends’ lives.”

Nazumi stopped and turned to look at the two men. “You have burdens and responsibilities beyond anything any of us has ever seen,” she said tenderly. “We all know that you love us, that you want to be there for us in every way, but we also know that you can’t possibly do it all, amazing powers or not. It’s time you figured that out.”

Wide eyes stared back at her. “I forget that you two refuse to scan us,” she continued. “I think even Tommy picks things up.”

“Tommy?” Jensen wondered at the nickname.

Nazumi chuckled. “The merger of the two groups is about as complete as it will ever get. Pet names and all.”

“We didn’t know,” Jared replied, sounding a bit lost, and more than a bit regretful.

“Stop it!” she ordered. “That right there? Stop it. No one is accusing you of being bad friends except yourself. Friendships aren’t just about what you can do for the group. We have to give something back to you, and this is it. This is our gift. We will watch over each other, and over the two of you. You are carrying around responsibilities that you don’t need. You have enough.”

“We just,” Jensen started, “We just wish we could be more involved, closer. Like we used to be.”

“Jen,” she answered him kindly, “You can’t. There’s no going home again. We accept it. You need to, too. Even if all of this hadn’t happened, we all have to graduate. We couldn’t avoid the complications forever. This way? Is better. We have each other and a whole new group of amazing people. And we still have the two of you. This isn’t bad. Not even close.”

“We came here to check on you, make sure you were okay,” Jared smiled. “And instead, you made sure we’re okay. Pretty cool trick.”

Nazumi beamed at him, then turned, and slid her arms through theirs. As they walked arm in arm down the hallway, her light, trilling soprano voice added, “You have a great deal of catching up to, loves. You are merely men, after all.”

_________________

The nine had become twelve. Misha, Jager and Sasha joined their effort in stretching and strengthening the configuration of the experimental psionic net. The group now covered the entirety of the campus grounds, all equidistant from each other with Jensen and Jared at the center. The pair was separated by the same distance from each other as they were to the rest of the Adepts, a good 500 meters. Their continued effort to increase the distance they could tolerate between them had made this slight separation no more than an itchy nuisance. They stood in the middle ring of the Core, the corridors empty, cadets tucked away behind the classroom doors. 

It struck them, at that moment, how very little contact they had with their fellow students. They had no classes with any but their immediate circle, and even in the mess, an invisible barrier stood between the table where they sat and the rest of the student body. Now, the original fear that their newfound celebrity would shatter their privacy seemed foolish. They only had privacy. The days of being swept away in the bustle of thousands of fellow Adepts going about their schedules felt so long ago, almost nostalgic. They had to focus on the advice Nazumi had given them. They could shoulder only so much. This, like so many things that came with their new responsibilities, had to go by the wayside. 

It felt rather sadly like growing up. 

Their coms sounded, the standard check-in that everyone had taken position, and the drill could begin. The empaths had made astounding strides in achieving phenoptic ideation on their own. It accelerated the progress of the exercise in orders of magnitude. Jensen and Jared slid effortlessly into the phenoptic, immediately filtering out the energies from the surrounding Adepts, focusing on the members of their group. In short order, they located their friends, Misha’s pattern being the brightest and most easily recognizable. The empaths reported over the coms that the kinetics could begin

At first, the individual patterns sprang into vivid life, wild swirls of color, but they remained isolated. Long minutes passed and the stretching out of the energies finally connected with the empaths. The resultant web lacked the concentrated power of the individual powers, but it stretched across the entire campus, enmeshing over 100 square kilometers in a psionic net. This would be more than enough room to execute the maneuver in fighters and actually engage the enemy

Jensen and Jared marveled at the accomplishment, the beauty of its intricate design. The colors mingled, shifting, forming an odd spectrum of remarkable loveliness. As they studied the product of their friends’ devotion, the gentle chiming of the music they had heard in the Spire began again. They knew now not to chase after it headlong, but they also realized the song existed whether they heard it or not. Vigilantly guarding their consciousnesses, assuring they didn’t slip into the same trance that had so horrified their superiors, they let the sounds fall into the background. Even with these efforts, the strange symphony grew louder, clearer, more intense. 

It wasn’t until Tom’s voice came over the coms that they realized something was up. “Guys,” he said tremulously. “What’s happening?”

They immediately focused in on their friend, and suddenly understood his concern. The web had grown in intensity. It now appeared to be at least four times as strong, and looked to be growing. 

“Well, fuck me,” Chris brusquely interrupted. “All this sparkly stuff. That’s phenoptics?”

None of the kinetics had ever achieved the ideation state. Now, by the voices coming across coms, all of them were. 

“Do you hear it?” Alona whispered, her soft voice oddly amplified by the communication device.

Now, all of their friends were hearing the song. Cold seized Jared’s and Jensen’s hearts. 

“Disengage!” they shouted. “Disengage now!”

The web remained intact. 

“Do you hear us?” Jensen continued to yell. “Disengage from the web right the fuck now!”

Still, nothing happened. 

Hoping this would work, and not damage any of their friends, they launched a massive power surge through the net. One by one, in rapid succession, the nodes of the net shattered, until the entire thing collapsed. 

Panting, Jensen and Jared ran toward each other, Jared talking into his com. “Is everyone all right?!”

Panic rose in them as no one answered the call.

Finally, a voice, probably Tom’s, replied. “Ow.”

The pair laughed loudly in profound relief. “Everyone, meet at MedLab 1,” Jensen ordered. Finally, all  of the others confirmed that they were on their way. 

When the duo cleared the outer ring of the Core, they could see several people converging on the Lab. They could sense the others headed their way from the other side of campus. Alona, Chris, Mike, Raidon, and Sasha sat waiting for them in the main examination room, the startled medics trying to figure out what was happening. 

“Do we need to exam them?” one young woman, whom Jared knew as Terrell asked.

“No,” he answered. “We’ll take it from here, thanks. If we need additional help, I’ll be sure to call.”

The medics quietly left, casting surreptitious glances over their shoulders. Jensen and Jared started scanning the five, trying to find any sign of trauma that surge might have caused. No one spoke, knowing that explanations, if there were any, should come when everyone was present. It took only a few minutes more for the others to arrive, slightly out of breath. 

Satisfied that no one had sustained permanent injury, it was time to try and explain what happened, though the two young men had as many questions as the others. 

“So that was the music,” Misha broke the ice.

“That was the music,” Jared answered.

“Why don’t we back up to the kinetics sudden ability to go phenoptic?” Jensen interrupted. 

“I have no idea what happened,” Chris replied. “One minute, it was just like normal, the next, I could see the energy just like you guys described it.”

“The web,” Nazomi began cautiously, “did the two you charge it up?”

“No, we didn’t,” Jared responded.

“Then how did it suddenly gain power?” she asked.

No one had any answers. 

“And when the power reached a certain level, everyone could hear the music,” Sasha offered. 

“Why didn’t any of you disengage?” Jensen demanded. 

“At first,” Misha said, “I couldn’t hear you. Then, after I could, I couldn’t break out of the web. It was like I had forgotten how to shut down, but the really scary part was, I didn’t want to.”

“It was kind of like being plugged into happiness,” Alona suggested. “Letting go of it felt painful, like loss.”

No one said anything more. Jensen ran his hands down his face, he and Jared obviously trying to make sense of this strange development. 

“We need to tell the Justicar,” he finally spoke. “And the Optia. If possible, we need to try and recreate it for them.”

Before anyone could protest, Jared interrupted. “We will need the rest of you to stay disconnected. Watch over us and if we don’t come out, try blasting us out. You’ve created the web before in close quarters. Now, it should be much stronger. Hopefully, the strain of trying to create the distance between the nodes is what triggered the music, or hearing it, or however the hell we’re going to explain this.”

Sasha looked to Misha, who appeared lost in thought, his brow furrowed. “They are right, you know,” she said softly. “They deserve to know what’s going on, and explaining it won’t do any good.”

Misha didn’t look up from the spot on the floor he had been staring out for the last ten minutes. Finally, he exhaled loudly, looked around the room at all of the faces he had come to cherish, stopping on the two that had radically changed his world. 

“This is going to be an interesting conversation,” he said, gracing the pair with a trademark smirk, before rising, tucking his hands in his pockets, and strolling out the MedLab doors. 

_________________

Jeffrey sat with his elbows on his knees, hands clasped tightly together, staring out the windows of his office at the Academy. He had seen a great deal in his nearly fifty years, more than he had ever wanted to see, but today shocked him to his core. The session with Gemini shattered a number of illusions he didn't even know he held and opened up horizons he had never known existed. He and Samantha had taken nearly an hour to even enter the phenoptic, but once they had achieved that strange, beautiful state, it took another thirty minutes before their heartbeats returned to normal. He never imagined this was the world as the two adepts saw it every day. Arguably the single greatest outcome, for him, for the exercise would be the extraordinary state of peace he felt when focusing, meditating on the glittering realm of pure energy. He could not recall ever having felt so calm, most certainly not since the war started. Even now, as he tried to grapple with the rest of the lesson, his mind would flit to that moment of revelation, and it soothed him.

The rest of the session stretched his credulity to the breaking point. For millennia, physicists claimed that the universe was musical, that the nature of the cosmos could only be truly expressed as music. Frankly, though the sentiment persisted generation to generation, few gave it much credence. The God equation, the idea that the entirety of existence could be expressed in a short mathematical statement, which would sound as music, and be the mind of God, moved theoretical physicists from scientist to high priests. Jeffrey counted himself among that camp of disbelievers.

Until this morning.

The universe, it seemed, was in fact a vast, infinitely complex and intricate song. Strangely, considering the magnitude of impact the revelation had on him, he could not recall the song. No matter how hard he concentrated, the melody would not surface. He and the Optia had started the morning with a more than healthy dose of skepticism. The seemingly treacherous state of mind required to experience this musical manifestation did nothing to assuage their concern. Hefty assurances from Misha and particularly Jensen and Jared, eased their discomfort to a degree. Looking back, those three hours seemed so much more like a matter of a few minutes.

The implications of all of this currently occupied the Justicar, troubling him on a number of levels. First, the ramification on what mankind thought they knew about the universe would no doubt be shattered. Beyond that, the problems for the Adepts themselves sprawled out endlessly before him. The allure, the temptation to surrender to the sights and sounds of the phenoptic overwhelmed both he and Samantha. Neither of them was inexperienced, nor gullible. That they almost lost themselves in that world drove home the dangers of this, for lack of a better word, technique.

Clearly, this visualization step was required to actualize the Gemini Defense. Jeffrey had made it no secret that he had no desire to see the two young men actually execute the tactic. From the onset, his goal had been for them to develop it, then teach it to others, specifically active duty Adepts, and deploy it in the field, while Jensen and Jared remained safe at the Academy. As it stood, only those two seemed capable of remaining aware enough to avoid becoming lost in that state of consciousness. Even Misha, the most talented, quite possibly the strongest, empath he had ever met was not immune to the lure. Hopefully, the two young men could train their mentor how to avoid the trap.

The thought made Jeffrey smile. Gemini seemed to consistently teach its elders more than the elders taught them. Jensen and Jared would never believe the statement, but in the privacy of his own mind, he knew the truth. It gave him a level of comfort, a reprieve from the maelstrom of his thoughts. The pair had risen to every challenge presented to them, blasting through obstacles and achieving results that changed the rules of the game. If anyone could figure out how to make this work, those two could.

The door chime sounded, and he bade his visitors to enter, knowing it would be Samantha, Misha, Sasha and Jager. Once all were seated, he took a moment to inventory their appearances. Samantha still looked a bit pale, the shock not having quite worn off yet. Misha, as he expected, radiated smugness. This was chief among the things he loved about the empath. He took the successes of his charges as his own. Conversely, their struggles and failures were also deeply personal to him. No, he could not have chosen a better person to care for Jensen and Jared. That gave him comfort, especially as the demands of the capital only seemed to grow, limiting his time with the pair.

"Schedules have to be changed," he said softly, taking all of them slightly by surprise. "Misha, you are going to have to train the entire group how to remain self-aware enough not to become lost in the phenoptic. We can't take any risks here, and I need to know that someone, other than Gemini, can remain in control enough to make this work."

"I would like to be in on that," Samantha added unexpectedly.

Jeffrey nodded his consent. "How is flight training going?" he asked.

"They all show relatively high skill levels in the simulators," Jager answered. "Some stronger than others, but all slightly ahead of the timetable we had planned."

"How long until they have co-pilot certification level adroitness?" the older man asked.

"I estimate a month and a half, if we push it, but given their other workloads, two to three months would be more probable."

"Break is next week," Morgan said. "After that, I want you to prep them for the six week deadline. Excuse them from other classes or commitments. Misha, use the time currently allotted to the ExTac class itself for your training regimen. They can't go any further until they get past this present barrier. After that, they can resume drills."

"Why the rush?" Sasha asked.

Jeffrey sighed deeply. "I want to see if this tactic can even work. The only way we get there is to get them in fighters. I have a group of pilots selected. I have no idea how long it will take the cadets to adapt from the current drills to the rigors of fighters, but I want them to have as much time to make that leap as possible. Also, if this succeeds, and frankly, from what I saw today I think it can, we need to get this into the training program for active service Adepts."

"It wouldn't hurt to be able to give the Senate and Consuls a ray of hope, either," Misha said coldly.

"No, it wouldn't hurt."


	10. Chapter 10

_Of all the commodities that humanity has ever trafficked in, none surpass the value of hope. Precarious, precious and scarce when most desperately needed, easily lost and most painfully gained, it turns the tides of battle. It snatches sanity from the jaws of madness. It renders the impossible possible. A long, backward glance at our race shows that the men and women best remembered and most revered traded not gems or knowledge or coin. They gave hope in exchange for faith. The greatest villains of our lore were the thieves who stole away hope and left fear in its place._

_\- Pontifex Muthologia Celebras Lethon, from “Man and Myth,” AT 3130_

 

It took everyone about three hours to settle in. The group had left en masse from the Academy as soon as they could on the final day before the two week break began. Jensen and Jared, the masterminds behind the early exodus told no one that their true motivation was to see if they could catch Loretta off guard, knowing she wasn’t  expecting them until the next morning. They were slightly surprised to find Ella Holloway waiting at the transport for them. They held on to hope that they had managed to pull one over on their diminutive "hostess" up to the point that the inn-keeper informed them that once they had put away their belongings in their assigned rooms, Loretta should have dinner ready for them.

Mike laughed uncharitably at their disappointment. "Like we didn't know," he chided. "It’s gonna take more than an early departure to pull a fast one on Divine."

Regrettably, they conceded he was correct. 

Dinner began with, as was customary, a sound scolding which ended as the two young men began to search Loretta's hair for the strands of gray she accused them of putting there. She swatted them away, murmuring cheerful recriminations under her breath. Trays of hearty dishes flowed out of the diner's kitchen nearly burying their table. Jensen and Jared remarked to themselves that this was the quietest they had ever seen their friends, and thankful that even Mike's mother had managed to teach the boy not to talk with his mouth full. Once the meal had concluded and hot coffee was served to all, Tom began to flirt outrageously with their hostess, which shocked everyone.

"Fresh!" Loretta exclaimed, smacking the tall, handsome Adept on the arm. At his boyishly mournful expression, she said matter-of-factly "I didn't tell you to stop, did I honey?"

The village, even late on a cold evening, bustled with activity and vacationers. The strange alpine sport of skiing seemed to have quite the following, and one glance at the monstrous peaks of the valley provided the clue as to why they flocked to Ouray. Mike had never relented in his urgings to get everyone to try the sport, and they all ultimately agreed while putting up a greater show of resistance than any of them actually felt because they knew how much their rambunctious friend enjoyed badgering them.

 Well into the night, they sat at their secluded table in the homey diner, just chatting, laughing, telling stories and sharing memories. It felt wonderful for Jensen and Jared to just have a moment to savor their friends. Eventually, Loretta shooed them all out of the building, ordering them with her normal belligerent charm to haul their butts to bed. This was no doubt an indictment of Jeffrey's care of them, and something he would assuredly be apprised of at Loretta's earliest convenience.

The group splintered in the middle of the town square, tiny lights scattered all around them, glistening brightly on the snow. Most headed to their rooms at Ella's, while the rest of the group made their way silently to the cabin. None were surprised when they entered and found the place had been prepared for them. There were fresh linens, lightly stocked cupboards and gloriously inviting warmth. They shook the snow and the chill off and headed to their respective rooms. 

It had been far too long since Jared and Jensen had a perfectly private moment, free from the concerns and responsibilities of their day-to-day lives. The cabin offered them more than rest. It provided release. Both knew it to be a silly notion. All that needed doing, all the expectations of them still existed, as assuredly real here as back on campus. But for some reason, once they entered the small town, welcomed into the warmth of their friends' hearts and hearths, everything felt lighter. They basked in each other, unfettered and light. Their lovemaking took much longer than usual. Jensen urged his lover to take him, to fill him up. It was not unheard of between them, but normally it was Jared that yearned for the burning feeling of fullness, of completeness, but he could deny Jensen nothing. The tenderness of the act brought tears to their eyes, the love they felt overwhelming them, like it would burst forth from their bodies and flood the worlds. It had been some time since a hunger for each other had seized them as it did in this moment. Well into the earliest hours of morning, they shared breath and body as they always did heart and mind. This lust would not release them until they had both had their fill. They collapsed sweaty and sated, both achy and feverish in the most delectable of ways. They chuckled at the shared thought that Mike's skiing expedition might have to wait a day or two, as both of them would no doubt have trouble walking tomorrow. 

They slept late into the day, the sun approaching its apex. They were not surprised to find the house empty. Their mentors had no doubt decided to head into town for a respite. The privacy, the silence and warmth of their sanctuary afforded them an opportunity to indulge in something they had only done once before. Sprawled out in the enormous bathtub in the master suite, Jared reclined against Jensen's chest, their legs and arms and hands tangled together, they luxuriated in the hot water, the flow of the jets, and above all, each other. They traded lazy kisses, lingering gentle touches until they knew they had to leave the warm water. The sonic dryer felt heavenly and they still held each other as it whisked away the moisture on their pink, wrinkled skin. 

By the time they entered the town proper; noon had come and gone, the early afternoon presenting a less crowded square. They supposed most of the visitors had made their way to the slopes. They strolled down the street, making their way into Loretta's place. Her amused expression conveyed her understanding of precisely what they had been up to. They might have blushed a bit, but their grins threatened to split their faces. Fortunately, the main dining room only held a few people, and before they had even managed to sit, steaming bowls of savory stew were placed before them. Whatever magic Loretta used to concoct her dishes must have been concentrated to create this one. A fowl of some type, no doubt domestic as it lacked the gaminess of wilder birds, stewed to buttery tenderness in thickened stock, root vegetables and some type of gooey delicious pastry floated in the brew. It warmed them from head to toe, and elicited more than the usual murmurs of enthusiastic enjoyment.

Before they had finished the rustic desert of wild berries sweetened and thickened as they baked beneath a flaky crust, their friends had honed in on their position, joining them and overwhelming the table meant for half their number. 

Before Mike could begin to bellow for food, more dishes of this sweet delight Loretta called “cobbler” came out of the kitchen to the hungry cadets. None had managed to make it to the slopes, as all had slept in. Judging by their flushed complexions, and a few slightly visible love marks on necks, sleep wasn't the only shared activity. They all wandered through the streets, stopping to chat with friends, peruse some of the handmade crafts the townsfolk offered to their visitors, but ultimately, they ended up at the cabin, draped over any available surface. Quiet huddles of conversation, some games, some watching the holovid, the relaxation of the afternoon acted as a balm on Jensen and Jared. Jensen had been lured into a strange card game with Misha, Jager, Mike and Chris. While Jared watched, his beloved soundly beat them hand after hand though he was new to the game and had been mistaken as an easy mark. The playful jabs and complaints only lightened the mood further. Jared emerged from the kitchen, a warm cup of mulled wine in hand, and caught sight of Alona nestled up in the reading nook.

"Whatcha reading?" he asked, peering over her shoulder to the scroll that had consumed his friend’s attention.

"It’s a children's story from Ancient Terra," she answered. "Raidon's family curates the most exhaustive collection of literature from the old world."

"Really?" Jared eagerly inquired, his interest peaked. "What's it about?"

Alona chuckled. "That’s rather difficult to say. It is, as far as I can tell, a very charming tale, but it is filled with a great deal of strangeness." She pointed to a drawing that accompanied the text. "This is, I think, the main character."

"What is it?"

"It is an anthropomorphization of a children's toy popular among the ancients. It’s based on a particularly vicious ursine mammal. I can't even begin to guess why they would turn such a creature into a plush doll for their children to sleep with."

"Maybe the ferocity of the creature would assure the young that it would scare away bad dreams?" Jared offered.

“That's possible, but this specimen looks anything but frightening."

Jared laughed. "He is kind of adorable you know. What’s that?" He pointed to another figure.

"That is something called a 'piglet.' It looks something like the boars in many of the agricultural zones."

"It was also a children's toy?" 

"Unsure, but it seems that this was an exceedingly popular story, and toys were fashioned in the likeness of these characters."

"How very odd."

"Yes, but what I love about it is the strange innocence and sweetness of it. It is a very kind and gentle story." Her wistful tone pulled Jared's attention up from the screen to look at his friend. 

She seemed more relaxed than he had seen her for a very long time. She radiated a calm joy that no doubt came in part from the young man who shared her affections. Jared was suddenly fiercely glad that she had found someone, but something lurked, like a shadow, just beyond his reach. He focused, trying to figure out what the niggling sadness could be, but it mostly eluded his concentration. However, one thing came through clearly. A deep sadness.

He had no idea from where it came. Obviously, not from anyone in the room. It settled in his chest, and amplified when he look at the lovely, quiet, talented young woman beside him. He wrestled with it for several moments, but as it still refused to take any kind of shape or form that he could deal with, he pushed it out of his mind and heart. If it was important, it would no doubt return. Hopefully during a time less idyllic than this.

He settled down next to his friend, pointing at the scroll. “And who is this melancholy looking little fellow?”

“That is Eeyore,” she smiled at him.

_________________

It had been three days in the valley before Mike managed to drag them to the slopes to try out this bizarre sport of his. They had been fitted with special gear, given basic instructions on what to do and to expect. Hover chairs lifted them gently up the side of the mountain, this particular run far more shallow a grade than its neighbors. Mike had explained that a run consisted of an uninterrupted path, cleared of all trees and debris, in which snow accumulated without packing down, leaving a down-soft and thick layer of powder. Apparently in ancient times, the sport could be quite dangerous, sometimes fatal. Fortunately, since its revival on Lyrea, force fields had been applied to the sides of the run. Skiiers sought to achieve as much speed as possible down the slopes, and before the technological intervention, the most common form of injury and death had been collision with trees. 

Reassured that their present activity had been rendered completely safe, one by one they proceeded down the run. Jensen and Jared went down together, their first run was clumsy, awkward, and they spent more time on their butts than on their skis, laughing loudly at their remarkable lack of coordination. On the second run the entire group fared much better. By the third, Jensen and Jared had managed to grasp the nuances of the sport and could sweep down the slope with an agility and grace that startled them. By the end of the day, they had progressed to the more challenging runs and knew they would enjoy this activity as often as possible.

Mike, of course, gloated like the cat that got the cream, his entire demeanor an unending shout of "I told you so!" They responded generally with complaints of how sore they all now were and of course blamed that entirely on Mike. None of it fazed him whatsoever. 

With their days spent skiing, lounging, eating, and not a few liaisons behind closed doors, the break sped by them. The impending return to the Academy and the demands of their duties weighed more heavily on them with each passing hour. On the night before their return, Jared and Jensen stood on the cabin’s deck, marveling at the landscape’s splendor. Eventually, Loretta appeared no doubt to check on them and feed them if she could get them to sit still long enough.

“Even after all these years, it’s till an amazing sight,” she softly, reverently said. 

The trio stood for a few minutes more, until Jared asked, “Have you ever noticed that these trees, right here around the cabin are larger than the others?”

Loretta smiled. “Oh yes. We’ve noticed.”

“So any theories on why?” Jensen urged her on.

“A few,” she cryptically replied. “All of these trees were mostly uniform until a little less than a year ago. Suddenly, these closest to the house began to shoot up. We also noticed the grass here is much thicker and lusher than anywhere else in the valley. I expect that once the snow melts, the flowers will be spectacular.”

“So, we did this.” Jared stated flatly.

“Yes, I think so,” Loretta confirmed. “You should take a look at the flora around your quarters on campus.”

“We spend a lot of time at other places on campus, too. It might be very difficult to distinguish,” Jensen countered.

Loretta’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Does Jeffrey know you two are having sex all over his campus?”

Both young men sputtered with disbelief, as Loretta cackled at them.

“Do you really think you have so much control that in the heat of passion you keep all of your power contained?”

Still wide-eyed and a bit pale, the duo looked around at the affected trees with a bit of astonishment and no small amount of embarrassment.

“I tell you that the love you have for each other is so strong that at its most passionate, trees grow tall and strong, the flowers cover the ground, and you go with shock and shame?” she chastised them. “I think you better get a few things sorted before you head home.”

With that, she took her leave of them.

Jensen and Jared stood still for some time, trying to process what they had learned. The phenoptic revealed an array of green threads of so many shades they couldn’t begin to count them. As they suspected, the web nearest the cabin shown more brightly, more densely than the surrounding land. The tiny galaxy of light hummed beautifully at them, and they finally understood what Loretta meant. Their love had made this, an imprint so strong that even when they were a world away; it still blossomed all on its own.

_________________

Nothing could prepare them for the maelstrom of the following month back at the Academy. Days were split evenly between intense sessions in the flight simulators and what had been dubbed "bootcamp" with Misha. Even Sasha and Jager joined the cadets as they all strove to better understand the phenoptic and more importantly, how to remain aware enough to resist the lure of the Music. ExTac ceased for the three and a half weeks it took to master the trance-like state enough to ensure no one would get lost in it. Once they resumed drills on the Gemini Defense, the exercises were rigorous. Spread out across the campus, they began to perform rapid shifts, seeing if the group could maintain net integrity as individuals ran from one side to the other, changing positions. For three days, the results were disappointing, but soon, they got it. Even though the net would change shape, sometimes almost folding in on itself as they shifted positions, it maintained its intensity and scope. 

Even during the "run and gun," as Mike called it, the strength of the psionic connections continued to grow. Finally, they had stretched as far across the campus as they could. It would soon be time to try the tactic in the field. Jager was stoically pleased with all of their progress, and visibly delighted when all of them completed their co-pilot proficiency tests two weeks ahead of the Justicar's six week deadline. Republic fighters all had two seats: the pilot, and co-pilot, or as was more commonly known, the gunner. No one could take a gunner position unless he or she had demonstrated enough skills and knowledge to maneuver a fighter away from a fire fight in the unlikely event a pilot was incapacitated. It required a level of finesse and four demonstrations in the simulator of extracting the craft from intense combat situations to safety. Fortunately, the exam did not require the level of mastery that pilots underwent. Jensen and Jared had attempted a few pilot drills in the simulator, and the demands were extraordinarily high. For their purposes, pilot accreditation was overkill. None of the Adepts responsible for creating the web could pilot, since their attention and energies would be focused somewhere else. However, they needed to be able to operate the craft’s weapons while maintaining the web. Fortunately, pilots operated the front cannon, and the gunners covered the aft. None of their friends could begin to try and juggle both until they were in actual fighters and in the vast vacuum of space.

Word reached the Justicar moments after they had all aced their exams. He called for a four-day break from all activities. Everyone welcomed the reprieve, taking no small pleasure in having so greatly exceeded their commander's expectations that he required additional time to find fighters and pilots and work out all the other details for field training. They took the few days off to relax and eat but mostly they slept. They had all been over-extended since the return from the valley. No one more than Jensen and Jared, who had maintained their appointments with Dr. Speight.

The prototype of the new deflector array steadily improved, each session resulting in Dick taking a lengthy list of notes and modifications back to his lab. By the time the group was ready for field training, the new array had demonstrated a 73 percent increase in power over the previous generation with an 80 percent increase in power efficiency. Dick and his team were now working feverishly to augment the new array to take advantage of the extra available power to increase the shields even further. The two young cadets were more than pleased at their efforts. Just touching the new array gave them a strong sense of accomplishment, and reminding them that they had been an integral part in a project that would save many lives.

_________________

When the pleasant fuzziness of the teleporter energy faded, they found themselves in a massive hangar, twelve fighters gleaming under the artificial lights. Outside the wide open blast doors they could see an unending ocean of dunes, their pristine whiteness glimmering blindingly under the midday sun. The panorama varied so wildly from the alpine glory of the Academy that Jensen and Jared wondered for a moment if they had been transported off world, though they knew this hangar lay some 200 kilometers from the base in Quel’Alta. 

A stunningly beautiful woman, waves of auburn hair cascading around her shoulders, walked forward to meet them. The suit she wore, slightly different from their own utilities denoted her as a pilot. The small, silver insignia on her collar proved her to be the leader of this squadron of pilots. Eleven other pilots, identically attired followed her lead, walking purposefully to the teleporter platform. The two groups formally saluted each other, most of the cadets out of respect for a superior officer, the pilots out of respect for the three mentors. 

“I am Danneel Harris,” the commander offered. “This is Matt Cohen, Jake Abel, Chad Michael Murray, Genevieve Cortese, Katie Cassidy, Sebastian Roche, Rob Bennedict, Nicki Aycox, Pamela Barnes, Brock Kelley and Adrianne Palicki.” Before her roll-call had even concluded, Jensen and Jared felt the waves of curiosity, anxiety, and equal parts fear and admiration pulsing off the group of pilots. “And you,” she continued, her tone suddenly quiet and deep, “are Gemini.”

“And you,” Jensen countered, “are all Adepts.”

Someone in the group whistled lowly. “You live up to your reputation,” she smirked. “Our abilities as pilots outweighed our skills as Adepts. Command put us all in the same squadron in case we were ever needed in a psionic ground unit. Never thought we would be needed for a psionic fighter unit.”

For the next five minutes, the cadets introduced themselves, and both groups worked through the awkward stage of trying to get each others’ names right. Danneel caught Jensen’s and Jared’s eyes and nodded back to a tactical table a few meters from them. The pair of cadets, the pilot commander and the three mentors made their way to it.

“We honestly weren’t expecting Adept pilots,” Jared said.

“Is it a problem?” she asked, unsure if she should be offended or not.

“We aren’t sure,” Jensen answered. “We have no idea if the twelve of you will be affected by the psionic net.”

“I suggest we test it on the ground,” Jager offered. “Then a more prolonged exercise in high orbit, just thirty or so revolutions, nothing fancy, to make sure none of the pilots are affected.”

Danneel nodded in agreement, and set about pulling up the holodisplay of the twelve ships and pilots. “We need to determine who goes with whom.”

“We need to start with your standard formations,” Jager began. “The individuals in the net need to be in general locations in relation to the others for this to work.”

“We will have to fly in one formation only?” she queried.

“No,” Jensen answered, “At least not further along in the drills. For now, we need to be fairly static in distribution, until we are more comfortable and then we can work on fluidity.”

The six of them began to work in earnest to configure the first stages of the drills. They had only completed half of the assignments when the others joined them, watching the proceedings with interest. 

Danneel, never looking up from the display, ordered Matt to distribute bio-nodes to the new arrivals. Each of them received a small, rectangular badge, no more than 7 centimeters across and 1 centimeter tall to affix to their utilities right over their hearts. He explained to them that the nodes served to monitor bio-signs, track ship assignments, and in the event of catastrophic failure, to work as a homing beacon for rescue. By the time they had all fastened their nodes, the final assignments had been made. 

“Your nodes will change color,” Danneel explained. “Two of each of you will have the same color, one pilot, one gunner. Find the person with the matching node and you have your assignments. Each ship will also be color coded to match its assigned pair.” 

The two groups merged, flowing together until the matches were found. As they newly formed pairs took position beside their crafts, they all felt the charge of excitement in the air. There, framed by the open hanger doors, laid a brand new adventure, something none of them had ever done before. If this worked, it could turn the tide of the war, and they would all make history. 

It took about five minutes to discern that the net did not impact their pilots. Jared hypothesized that unless an Adept was trained to the tactic, he or she would remain impervious. Chris and Erica had to use slightly more precise aiming skills as healing and phasing would likely affect their pilots, but that was something they had trained in for years. As pairs climbed into their crafts, Jensen and Jared paused to take in the sight. 

The fighters in the hangar represented the latest models in the Republican fleet. Standing three meters high, ten meters long and wide, and their hulls gleamed a rich, pearly grey in the sunlight. The wings and noses were fully articulated, allowing for reconfiguration given the conditions. Full atmosphere flying resulted in a much sharper, spearlike shape, the wings folding backward to the rear of the craft in a delta formation. In zero atmosphere, the wings would shift forward, and the massive cannons in  each wing tip  ended up sticking out two meters in front of the nose. Regardless of configuration, the ships were sleek, no straight lines but crisp arcs. The two smaller cannons rested mid-wing and this allowed for all four forward cannons to fire in a 180 degree sweep. Two rear cannons could independently cover the back 180. The advantage of the aft canons were their vertical movement. They could fire above and below the craft. At rest, on the deck of the hanger, the anti-grav systems left them hovering inches above the floor. 

Being on board an actual fighter unnerved all of them. Every facet of the controls, the layout, even the exerted force in maneuvering felt exactly like the simulators. Somehow, the fact that it was "real" this time made every last one of them nervous. The horizon of Lyrea began to curve, the blue sky fading, as stars became visible. Once in low orbit, the trial would begin. The pilots worked in perfect harmony, executing the programmed formation flawlessly. Once in position, the Adepts began to try and recreate the web. Jensen and Jared asked all the pilots for patience and explained that this could take some time. The first attempts failed spectacularly. Finally, everyone managed to put aside their nerves, regain their focus, and by the half-hour mark in orbit, the web was up and functioning. Once the signal came, the pilots maneuvered to the next formation, an uncomplicated shifting of positions between four ships in the internal folds of the net. For the next three hours, the ships flew back and forth between the assigned positions. As the minutes ran out on their first session, the net maintained integrity through all executed moves.

Everyone was ecstatic, adrenaline coursing through them as the wing of fighters returned to the hanger. Once their feet were firmly planted back on the ground, they exchanged high-fives, slaps, bellows and engaged in a few bizarre victory dances. Day one had been a tremendous success. Danneel suggested everyone meet up at a favorite local watering hole for some celebratory drinks. The town near the hangar, a small grouping of buildings on the edge of the vast desert that made up Psi Min’s training and deployment grounds, was called McAlister, named after some long forgotten ancestor. Now, the town only existed to provide services and supplies to the nearby Psi Min facilities, but the bar Dani led them to was ideal. Quiet, rustic, blessedly cool and considerably dimmer than the blazing afternoon and the superb pale ale, brewed on the premises, quenched thirsts and help relax overly tense muscles.

It took less than an hour for the adrenaline to wear off and leave a group of flagging cadets, which Misha, Jager and Sasha herded out of the building and to the teleporter. Once they reached the Academy, they trudged their way to the mess. They ate their food without tasting it and headed to their individual quarters, falling into their beds, most of them asleep before their heads hit the pillows. They had three days to recuperate before their next drill.

_________________

“A Squadron,” their official designation, stepped off the teleporter pad to a familiar sight. Jensen, Jared, Dani and Katie stood shoulder to shoulder around the tactical holotable, the hanger wide open behind them. Each drill session of the past two weeks, the four started much earlier than the others, reviewing logs, evaluating new formations, planning for present and future drills and adjusting timetables as necessary. The zero atmo sessions had yielded significant progress, the last two with no loss of net integrity regardless of the rapidly changing ship formations. 

“Gunners don’t really matter,” Katie said. “The ships’ aft weapons aren’t the primary weapon in this case. Pilots can handle any significant forward interference with the forward cannons, and this is a frontal assault tactic.”

The three others hummed agreement, eyes focused on the display, seemingly unaware of the arrival of the twenty other members of the squadron. “You are certain you want to go ahead with atmo maneuvers?” Dani asked, the question obviously directed at Jensen and Jared. 

“Yes,” they answered in unison, though Jensen continued. “One, we need a rapidly changing environment. Some stimuli beyond our control to force unplanned course corrections. And we have no guarantee that all silicate encounters will take place in zero atmo. Especially when they figure out what we are up to.”

“We have clearance to use Cavalor Canyon,” Katie added. The display changed to show the impressively serpentine gorge. “It’s a common pilot training area, very challenging, but these ships have the latest safety equipment, so collisions with walls or obstacles aren’t an issue. If you are certain we are ready for this step, we have the canyon for the next three hours. After that, we return to hangar. No delays.”

All of the squadron had gathered around to see their destination. Jensen and Jared had already loaded a sim to see what the challenges for net integrity would be. Three simulated runs later, Jared pointed to three spots. “These three areas will disrupt the pattern. That starboard protrusion requires three of the ships to move to port quickly, one moving farther in than the others.”

Jensen rubbed his chin, and then crossed his arms across his chest as he contemplated the problem. “If Jared or I take that outside position, we could maintain the net. We might as well get used to doing things like this. Once this tactic goes live, this kind of change will be common.”

“So who’s it gonna be?” Katie asked.

“I’ll do it,” Jensen said. “Alona will take my position further center.” Jared nodded his agreement.

“Alright,” Dani said, “But we structure our formations also based on skill and comfort. Frankly, I need Katie to stay port, so you will fly with her this round. Nicki and Alona will move center.”

“So, for this flight,” Jensen offered, “Basically, Alona and I are switching pilots.”

“Yes,” Katie answered. ”Ships and pilots remain unchanged, gunners swap.”

For the next ten minutes, the command team covered the new strategies, challenges and changes for this drill. Once questions had been answered and everyone felt comfortable with what was expected of them, the fighters lifted off the hangar floor and darted out across the dunes. 

It took less than five minutes to reach Cavalor Canyon. The gorge meandered like a jagged, black scar across the glistening white surface of Lyrea for over one hundred kilometers. At seven kilometers deep and less than one wide, it provided a superb place for pilots to push their limits. Dani and Nicki’s ships took the forward position, the others arranging behind them as they entered the canyon proper, sheer rock walls climbing high on either side. 

“Test run one,” Dani’s voice came over the coms, “Hit this at speed pilots. We want to see how quickly the net can adjust and maintain integrity. One run through and back. Save the acrobatics for the second run.”

Everything went like clockwork. The stone cliffs blurred at the incredible speed of the fighters. As promised, the topography of the canyon forced the ships to move rapidly, back and forth, positions shifting to avoid stone obstacles and to keep from colliding with other ships. The three sharp elbow turns required everyone’s utmost attention. The pilots, having flown together for years, handled the changes more effortlessly then their new gunners, but with some quick responses from Jensen and Jared, they prevented disintegration (of the net?). The first switchback forced the port ships inward, the other ships rising and falling to accommodate them. The second one was much like the first. The third and most difficult switchback almost disrupted the net, but once Jensen compensated, the fighters moved to spin around and reverse their courses back through the canyon.

The ship configuration had to be flipped, moving Jensen’s wing aft instead of port. At the first rapid maneuver, the net sputtered. Jared called out on coms “Jensen! Are you okay?” His counterpart rubbed his head, the sharp pain there and in his chest not abating. He needed to push through this. Jared knew damned well he wasn’t okay, but neither of them would end the drill until the pain became more acute. 

As the aft ships moved back into position, all braced for the next switchback. The aft wing moved perfectly, avoiding the rocky protrusion, the other ships shifting precisely for the change. The pain in Jensen’s head and heart exploded. A brilliant flash blinded everyone, and instantly a node was gone. Before anyone’s vision cleared, another flash of light and the most agonized scream they had ever heard blared over the coms. 

“Pull up!” Dani screamed. “All fighters pull up! Abort! Abort!” 

The blast had knocked several of the ships off their trajectories, but the quick reflexes of the pilots had them shooting straight up out of the confining stone walls into the wide open desert plain.

A cacophony of voices blared over coms, demanding to know what had happened, but one sounded more frantically than the others.

“Clear coms,” Dani yelled in her most authoritative voice.

“Mayday!” another voice could now be heard screaming. “I’ve lost my canopy! My controls aren’t responding!”

Dani switched her ship to emergency auto-pilot, the command engaging the artificial guidance systems on all the remaining ships. She saw on her display that all ships, including the wounded one were now gliding back to the hangar. Then cold horror gripped her.

Only ten ships showed on sensors.


	11. Chapter 11

_Fifty-three years before the final exodus from Terra, the wealthiest and most powerful nations pinned the hopes of humanity on a small planetary neighbor of the homeworld. For thirty years they attempted to create breathable atmosphere on the small, red, rocky world, but maintaining it proved impossible. A desperate attempt to re-melt the planet’s frozen iron core failed catastrophically, blowing away nearly one-eighth of its total mass. It represented the first and final attempt by humanity to attempt to remake a world to its liking. Twenty-two years after the Mars disaster, the great arks broke orbit from Terra, the last generation of native-born humans cradled within. Had the Martian experiment succeeded, we can seriously doubt that our ancestors would have pushed to find Lyrea or create the Republic. Hindsight’s sole benefit lies in its ability to reshape how we see our present time. When hope seems lost, often a better, harder choice emerges. A true hope triumphing over a false one._

_— Interview with Justicar Psionica Jeffrey Morgan as entrusted to Pontifex Sryon Toliver in 3155 AT_

 

“Black card emergency protocol initiated.”

The words flashed on the holodisplay of Jeffrey’s desk. His stomach felt as though it had dropped through the floor, and he had no time to excuse himself before he dematerialized, leaving behind two very confused looking generals and their aides. 

The next moment, he was standing in the main triage unit of MedLab 1 at the Academy. A Squadron stood before him, all of them pale, eyes wide and most visibly shaking. On the floor in front of the group, Jensen lay unconscious. Jeffrey immediately searched for Jared and when the tall man’s floppy brown hair failed to appear in the room, Morgan felt himself grow sick. 

Jensen’s body convulsed violently, his eyes wide open and he screamed. It was the single most blood chilling thing anyone present had ever witnessed. The sound seemed to come from every surface in the room, roiling through registers impossible for the human voice to reach. Light fixtures and displays exploded. A shockwave blasted out from him, knocking everyone in the room off their feet. Two quick-witted medics scrambled to him and sedated him. The eerie glow of what few light sources remained cast everything in deep shadow, the sparks from damaged equipment flaring around the room. 

Dr. Bell rushed forward, four medics on her heels. Her fingers at Jensen’s pulse point, she yelled “Get him in stasis now!” She pulled a hypo out of her pocket and gave him what Jeffrey assumed was another dose of tranquilizer. The medics who had departed at her orders, immediately returned, a pristine silver stasis chamber floating between them. They lifted the unconscious young man from the floor and gently lay him in the chamber. Jeffrey fought violently not to think of how much it resembled a coffin as the glastinium lid closed, and the hibernation system came on line. 

The read out on the surface responded to Bell’s rapid finger movements. When her hands stopped and returned to her sides, she crumpled in on herself. “He’s in deep hibernation. It’s all I know to do for him.”

The roaring in the Justicar’s ears faded, and he could hear the sobbing all around the room. He had yet to master his own voice when Danneel approached him, her face deathly white, tremors wracking her body.

“We were halfway through our second run through Cavalor Canyon,” she said, softly, tremulously. “We had switched Ackles and Tal, in anticipation of the complex switchbacks in the canyon. After the middle turn, the fighter carrying Sebastian Roche and Alona Tal exploded. Immediately after, Nicki  Aicox’s fighter also exploded. My pilots, Alona Tal and Jared Padalecki are dead Sir.”

Jeff’s legs gave out. The room spun, his vision fading as he sat sprawled on the floor. Medics rushed to him, lights checking his pupil response, hands checking pulse. A voice was talking to him, but he couldn’t make out words. He looked around at the distraught faces. Most openly weeping or sobbing and some crumpled on the floor like himself. Samantha stood stone cold still, propped up against the wall. He couldn’t even tell if she was breathing.

The auxiliary lights came on suddenly and the flash of light jarred him back to his senses. 

He knew reaction had set in, shock taking him, but he had work to do. 

He stood shakily, leaning against a wall, as he dialed his office in Celestus. “Cindy, point-to-point teleport to my location.” Before she could respond, he cut the connection. Moments later, the brunette stood beside him, stunned at the scene before her. 

“Get sweeper teams to Cavalor Canyon immediately,” Jeffrey said, his voice broken and raspy. He turned to Danneel. “I’m assuming since black card protocol was triggered, you all teleported straight here and your ships returned to the hangar on autopilot?”

She nodded.

“I need those logs analyzed,” he said to Cindy. “Only our very best people. This is a black card op.” 

“Sir,” Danneel said with all the strength she could muster. “Those fighters, they are the newest and the best. You won’t find malfunctions. If Ackles and Tal hadn’t switched places, both he and Jared would be gone.”

Misha launched himself toward a basin, retching violently into it.

Jeff tried to block it out, just nodding his understanding of what she was saying.

Someone had murdered Jared and Alona.

_________________

It took the sweeper teams seven hours to report back. The destruction of the two fighters had been too thorough for a systems malfunction. Their sensitive equipment found very little debris besides molecules from the alloyed hulls scattered all the way up the walls of the canyon and two kilometers across the floor. The analysis of the fighter logs took surprisingly longer, but yielded clearer results. 

All of the fighters’ sensors recorded the catastrophic event and showed that the energy spikes immediately before the explosions did not come from the destroyed ships’ reactors. The radiation signatures were completely wrong and an explosive device seemed the only explanation. Five of the finest minds in the Republic, including Dick Speight, were feverishly compiling the data and creating a more complete, single picture of the “event.” They hoped to recreate every detail of the disaster and hopefully learn what had happened. 

The only remotely comforting news had been Dick’s softly spoken “Jeff, it was a radiation we can measure.” Psionic power had no role in the disaster.

What few answers they had created brand new questions, all of them frightening. No one knew of the existence of the squad other than the members, the Justicar and the Optia. Absolutely no one knew about the details of the training for that day except the same people. Someone conspired to murder Gemini, and for all intents had succeeded. 

Jeff received the reports, still numb from shock and loss. He, like the rest of A Squadron had yet to leave the infirmary. Katie had received some cuts and bruises when Jensen had lost control and blown the canopy off the fighter. At Jensen’s violent reawakening in the triage unit, Tom had been thrown back into a wall and had suffered a slight concussion. Seven of the crew had scrapes, some bruises and there were a couple of hairline fractures from the shockwave. Most could probably be released, but the mind did unexpected things to the body when in shock. When Bell finally pronounced Jeffrey fit, he wandered toward the back of the lab. 

He found Misha, standing over Jensen’s stasis chamber. His shoulders hunched, his head hanging low, Jeffrey had never seen the man so defeated. 

“It would have been better if he had gone, too,” Misha whispered. Jeff gasped. “This is a coffin, you know,” the younger man continued. “He can never come out of it, and even if he could, he wouldn’t want too. This is no mercy, holding him in here. This is cruel.”

Jeff slowly, cautiously, approached his friend. He put a gentle hand between his shoulder blades, rubbing softly at the muscles, rock hard with tension. The empath had been fighting incessantly for hours to keep himself together. Jeffrey’s sympathetic touch undid him.

Misha wept.

_________________

Dr. Kristen Bell had seen a lot in her few years as a physician. She had served at the front, witnessing more human suffering than she ever wanted to. Somehow, the scene in front of her was worse. Probably because what all of these people desperately needed lay well beyond her power to give. She knew trauma and shock. No one could practice medicine in a war and not be intimately familiar with them. What worried her most was none of them seemed to grasp the worst part of this whole ordeal.

Hopelessness.

Gemini had been the great shining hope for the future of the race. No longer. When it hit this group of courageous people, she had no idea what would happen. 

None of them would eat, could eat. Most couldn’t keep down water. She locked down the medlab and put each of them in a bed, her crew given strict orders to sedate them. She could at least give them sleep. She walked into her office, closed and locked the door, and laid her head on her desk, nestled in her folded arms. Eventually, someone would have to contact the families of the deceased. Technically, she should do it, but she knew if she did, the Justicar would make her regret it. This was his duty. As deeply affected as he was by the tragedy, he would not shrug that burden onto another’s shoulders. 

When the morning finally came, she roused herself, taking a quick sonic shower, before checking on an infirmary filled with victims. She found Morgan standing in the middle of the room, watching them all. His light brown eyes, normally fiery and bright, looked glassy and dead. 

“I’m having quarters set up for all of them near the admin building,” he said quietly. “I don’t want them separated. As soon as they are awake, send them there. I will have food brought in. We will need to have psych medics on hand. Just to observe for now.”

She nodded, realizing the dim lights would make it difficult for him to see her. “Yes, Sir,” she whispered. 

He took one more look around the room, a fleeting glance through the glastinium doors at the rear of the lab which held Jensen’s stasis chamber, clasped his hands behind his back, dropped his head and quietly left. 

The others all woke within fifteen minutes of his departure. She repeated their Commander’s instructions, and they found escorts outside to guide them to their new quarters. 

As they filed out, Bell could not help but think they seemed hollowed out and empty. Reflexively, she wondered if Jared might be able to help them. He was the most gifted healer she knew. Then she realized what she had done. The shock of his death hit her anew. She walked back to the room that held the remaining half of Gemini. She looked through the glass lid at the young man within. He was remarkably beautiful for a man, but even in deep slumber, tension lines showed at his eyes, on his forehead and around his full lips. 

All his vitals were normal for stage 5 stasis, but she wondered if he would ever be able to leave that silver and glass capsule. She felt the tears well up and blinked them away. She quickly left the room and dismissed all of the medic crew except for the one person who had just come on shift. They all needed rest for the difficult times to come.

_________________

The daily reports flickered in front of his eyes, failing to register at all with his mind. The words and numbers taunted him with their hackneyed complacency. Business as usual. Irrational anger flooded through him, fury that the worlds could deign to keep spinning on in their orbits, life happening as usual. Didn’t they know? Couldn’t they understand? Nothing could be the same again. 

Jeff reached into a lower desk drawer and pulled out a glass bottle of single-malt scotch. As he poured the deep amber liquid into a cut crystal tumbler, he glanced at the clock: 0800. Fuck it, he thought. And tossed back the burning liquor.

Only 18 hours. That’s how long it had been since…he couldn’t even bring himself to think it. He knew he needed to call Jared’s and Alona’s relatives. He would have to call Jensen’s as well. Misha was right. They had no reason to believe Jensen would ever wake up. He just couldn’t bring himself to do it. He told himself he was only putting it off until he knew more about what had happened, but he knew the truth.

That act would make it real. Irrevocably real. 

He slowly turned the tumbler in his hand, the morning light streaming through his office windows gleaming on its many facets, casting rainbows and sparks of light. The world as Gemini saw it looked something like that.

He hurled it with all the force he could muster at the opposite wall. The crash of its shattering felt somehow gratifying. He grabbed another. Then another. Suddenly he was hurling everything he could put his hands on at walls and windows indiscriminately. He didn’t even realize he was backing his throws with kinetic power until the floor-to-ceiling window shattered. 

He panted, his breathing ragged, surveying the destruction of his office. The cold morning air wrapped around him and it felt right to him, stealing away the heat, his warmth and his life. 

He didn’t know how many times his com had gone off before he realized someone was trying to reach him. When he activated it, a panicked voice said “Justicar, you need to get down to MedLab 1 immediately.”

He didn’t recognize the voice, but as soon as the transmission ended he took off in a dead sprint.

Jensen. 

Rage filled him. If those murdering bastards thought they could get Jensen too, they had no idea the kind of monstrously cruel tortures he would unleash on them. His career and the war and the worlds and the Republic be damned!

He raced toward the entrance to the lab to find Jager, Misha, Sasha and Samantha converging on the same point with the same determined speed. Strangely, the door was locked. It took Morgan’s override to get inside. When the door sealed behind them, they were engulfed in complete darkness. A few flickering lights, sparks from damaged equipment gave them brief glances around the devastated facility. The wreckage spread across every room and surface. They walked cautiously forward, desperately hoping they arrived in time. The glastinium doors leading to where Jensen slept had been shattered. Cold seized Jeff’s heart. They were too late.

A gasp from Samantha who was behind his right shoulder caught his attention. His eyes were growing more accustomed to the darkness and he could see what had alarmed her. A female medic lay on one of the diagnostic beds unmoving. It seemed so strange that a killer would take the time to arrange her body like that.

_She’s just sleeping._

All five of them jumped. Jeff had no idea what direction the voice had come from. It seemed to come from everywhere at once. He strained to see back to where Jensen’s stasis chamber should be. 

_She grew distressed. She would have hurt herself or us. We made her go to sleep._

It wasn’t a voice, but voices, two of them, and they sounded so like…

Two brilliant green pinpoints of light glowed from the stasis room. 

_We require a ship. We require your help. We must rescue him._

“Jensen?” Misha whispered. 

_We are here, Misha. We must go._

“Go where?” Jeff asked, stunned.

The holoprojector in the center of the room, recessed in its housing which no doubt saved it from the destruction of the rest of the lab, lowered from the ceiling and activated. The standard medical diagnostic interface disappeared, but the changes happened so quickly, none of them could follow it. More startling was that the command console to the unit lay in sparking ruins in front of them. Finally, the image settled on a map of the Republic. The view began to zoom in on the Gamma sector. Jeffrey recognized the gas giants of the Tanae system, and then the desert planet filled the hologram. A point deep in the Great Desert started flashing. 

_There. We go there. Get a ship. We must rescue him._

“Jensen,” Samantha asked softly. “Rescue who?”

The glowing green eyes rose and moved close to them, the projector bathing his face in eerie light revealing his handsome features. 

_We must rescue Jared._

Somehow, they knew what he would say. What none of them were prepared for was that while he spoke with both of their voices, his mouth never moved.

_________________

Jeffrey’s mind warred with itself. Surely, this was merely a manifestation of madness. Jensen had somehow awakened from stasis and the loss of his literal other half had plunged him into insanity. But could they afford to dismiss him if there was any chance whatsoever he was right? One glance at the others and he realized he was alone in his doubt. He also realized voicing that doubt would prove a bad decision.

“What about Alona? The pilots?” Samantha asked.

Jensen’s eyes closed, his jaw set and firm, wrinkles appearing around his eyes.

_They did not survive._

The preparations for departure were rushed. Jeff barked orders into his com and within minutes had a black card op up and running. To everyone but the Justicar’s surprise, Psi Min had an installation in the Great Desert. The facility did not officially exist and couldn’t be traced by satellite or sensor. The completely inhospitable living conditions in the open deserts of Tanea provided a perfect training ground for the most elite of Adept soldiers. The harsh environment forged men and women into soldiers of extraordinary fortitude and resourcefulness. The graduates of the facility served on the ConEx’s guard, the Justicar’s personal guard in Celestus and had the highest active duty appointments in the Republic. Tango Base, as Jeffrey called it, had served the Ministry well, and he desperately awaited the day when the war was over and he could dismantle the damned thing. 

The five of them would transport into the facility, meet up with a unit and use an available troop transport to fly to Jensen’s coordinates. Jeff hoped that the extreme suddenness and secrecy of the mission would prevent another information leak. The list of possible conspirators was so damned short, and to suspect any of them made his blood run cold. Samantha would have to stay at the Academy for this run. He desperately needed to trust her. If nothing happened, at least he could cross her off the list. The more pressing matter and the only thing keeping this band of Adepts going was the glorious hope that they would find something in the burning sands of Tanea.

They left the medlab in a hurry, making straight for the embarkation room.  Jager stopped them before reaching the teleporter, gesturing at Jensen. “He needs armor. The helmet, something to cover his eyes.”

Even in bright daylight, Jensen’s eyes continued to glow. Morgan’s gratitude at the man’s forethought overwhelmed him. Even black card operatives would have no idea what to make of brightly glowing eyes. Jensen nodded his understanding at his mentor, cocked his head to one side, and two square bundles simply appeared in his outstretched hands. The young man didn’t give anyone a chance to respond, but started walking briskly to their destination. The rest followed, but kept casting glances back and forth between them, having no idea what to make of what they had just seen.

Jensen paused before they entered the embarkation room and put on his armor. The complex, almost fluid unfolding of the metal engulfed him. Once the helmet was securely in place and the visor successfully blocking the startling glow of his eyes, he walked into the room and gave the attendant a brief nod. Morgan programmed in the coordinates himself, excusing the ensign from his duties. 

It took three teleporter jumps to get to Tanea and once they materialized, Morgan was in action. By the time salutes were exchanged with the Tango Base commander, a unit of seven Adepts were geared up and assembled in the small docking area where the transport sat. The craft was not particularly attractive; rather squat, with wide open sides that were protected by energy shields. Every aspect of its design focused on its sole function: get soldiers to and from locations as quickly as possible. Fortunately, no one commented on the one fully-armored member of their party.

The Captain signaled the all clear and the ship lifted from the floor and darted out of the bay. 

“Justicar,” the man said. “The coordinates you gave us. That’s an old abandoned research facility. No one’s been there since the first century after this planet was colonized. We should be there in twenty minutes.”

Given that not even Morgan knew of its existence, there was no way Jensen could have known. Hope flared in his chest. 

“Nav is predicting sandstorms in that area this afternoon,” the copilot said. 

“At least that would obscure this ship,” Jager offered.

“No, Sir,” the copilot countered. “Sandstorms in the Great Desert reach winds in excess of 500 kilometers per hour. If this turns into a big one, it would shear off our shields and sandblast this ship to dust.”

“Are you expecting a storm of that power?” Sasha asked.

“Sir, no one here has the equipment or experience to forecast storms on the backside of Tanea to any degree of reliability.”

“In other words, we have no idea what we are heading into,” Morgan said grimily.

“No, Sir,” the pilot affirmed. “We don’t. Welcome to Tanea, Sir.”

The time stretched out unbearably long, until finally, the pilot announced they were five minutes from target. 

“What in the hell is that?” Misha exclaimed his gaze fixed forward. The dunes around them faded into an unending and featureless sea of tan, the sky so pale blue as to appear white. Where there should have been the sharp demarcation between sand and sky, the horizon had a band of black stretching across it. The dark ribbon grew frighteningly larger with every second, until they could make out flashes of red. Within minutes the blackness grew to consume half the sky.

“That’s the storm, Sir,” the copilot answered. “It came up fast and is growing even faster. It’s a thousand klicks out and will hit the target in seven minutes. Sensors show a ceiling of 10,000 meters. Wind velocity at 300-450 kph and climbing fast.”

“We have to turn around, Sir,” the pilot said. 

“Can you get any readings at the coordinates?” Morgan asked. 

“Negative, Sir. Too much static electricity in the air, but you can see the rock the building’s carved into coming up on starboard.”

Jensen, who had remained silent the entire time, stood and walked to the gaping opening. The shields were beginning to spark as sand hit them. 

“Jensen,” Morgan turned his eyes to the cadet. “Can you shield the ship?”

“Yes,” he answered flatly, “but we cannot help them see to land.”

Vicious forks of red lightning strobed hellishly, filling the black maw of the storm.

“We’re losing sensors!” the copilot yelled. 

“We need to get out of here in less than two minutes, Sir,” the pilot demanded. “As it is, we will barely beat that monster to the base.”

Morgan looked anguished. Sasha laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. “It will still be here when the storm has passed,” she consoled. 

Morgan nodded and as he turned to give the order to return, Jensen leapt from the craft, the shield giving way around as if he was breaking the surface of water. Then he was free-falling to the rocks several kilometers below.

“Why weren’t those shields up?!” Morgan yelled, unable to believe what he’d just seen. 

“The shields are up and at maximum, Sir,” the pilot responded. “He just went right through them. I don’t know how, but he did! We have to turn around now! Forward shields are dropping fast.”

Jeff watched helplessly as Jensen’s body disappeared in the boiling sands below them. 

The storm had arrived.

“I’m getting us the fuck out of here!” the pilot yelled. “You can court martial me later!”

_________________

The violently swirling sand made visibility impossible. The red flashes of lightning revealed nothing. The extraordinary power of the storm provided all the energy he needed to keep his shield charged and him safe within it. He drew more energy from the maelstrom to slow his descent, filtering out the wildly spinning and sparking strands of power that surrounded him and focusing on the rocks he was falling towards.

Thirty-seven sentient life readings wandered around several meters below the rocky surface. Half a kilometer north of them, the glorious glow of Jared called to him, but his love was surrounded by sickening wrongness. The revulsion he felt just looking there made a wave of nausea wash over him. He needed to get Jared out. There were only three moving forms in that area, but he could not punch through there and drag the storm with him.

Decision made, he directed his drifting descent to the greater concentration of people. The gathered power drawn in by his shield had caused it to go incandescent. A small shift, a slight tuning of the resonances of the shield’s structure and it became a burning projectile, sleek and ballistic, hidden in the seething storm. It sliced through meters of solid volcanic rock like a hot knife through butter, absorbing the energy of the impact. The swirls of the people in the corridor began to move and dart, brightening in their panic, fleeing from the brilliant glow. When the blinding radiance faded away, the pearl gray figure, faceless behind a mask, unmoved and unmoving increased their panic.

These people had seized his beloved, he thought. A flick of the wrist and the remaining energy of the shield exploded forward, vaporizing the seventeen people in front of him. For their deaths, he had no remorse. These were human beings, his race, who had perpetrated this crime. They had brought untold agony on himself, his beloved, their friends, their peers and they deserved far crueler fates than what they had just met. 

He walked calmly down the long straight hallway that separated him from his other half. He encountered no one in his way, but the remaining traitors would not survive. The facility’s emergency lights cast everything in an eerie red glow, softly pulsating. He had only a few minutes. 

The door to the room where his mate was held was a meter thick of pure plastinium, much newer than the walls of the structure. His mind pushed against them and they crumpled like thin foil. He could see the startled and terrified faces of the three people in the room as they slowly backed away from him. Around them, the horror, the wrongness, the vileness of what they had done brought bile to his mouth. The walls of this room, obviously a laboratory, were lined with large tanks; at least forty of them and in each one, at various phases of development were children. The oldest appeared to be about 10 years old. Even with its eyes closed, he would recognize that tip-tilted nose, those high cheekbones and the slant of the eyes. Jensen’s anger pulsed violently. The tanks exploded and their contents were blasted into their constituent atoms. The lid to the stasis chamber in the middle of the room flew into the air with enough force to embed it in the stone ceiling and Jared still disoriented, sat up. 

He had been somewhat conscious for about 24 hours, but not daring to awake fully. Not without Jensen near. Not when it might show up on the chamber’s sensors. He shakily climbed out and Jensen was at his side in a moment, supporting him. Jensen’s helmet retracted as did his gloves. He touched his lover’s hair, searching his beloved face and assuring them both they were finally together again. 

Mindful of their rapidly diminishing time, Jared wordlessly urged his lover to the primary console in the room; the central computer for the lab. Jensen tore the casing off, finding what he sought. The crystal core of the computer held everything they needed to know. 

They had only a few moments left and ignoring the frightened scientists, Jensen slipped the crystal into a compartment of his armor. Then he removed Jared’s from his back and within seconds he too was covered in the rich grey metal. They kissed once, deeply, and Jensen called on the power of the storm. As their helmets folded over to cover their faces, the self-destruct device detonated.

The blaze that surrounded them caused their visors to completely black out, and the explosion consumed the facility in heat only seen in stellar cores.

_________________

The return flight to base stretched out interminably long. Jeffrey had no doubt Jensen would survive. He had seen firsthand the power of the deflector he could summon. Now, he had to wait out the storm. He took stock of the condition Misha, Jager and Sasha were in. Apparently, they had all come to the same realization. They hated waiting, but it beat the hell out of what they had faced before. 

Still, it didn’t make the waiting easier. 

The transport shot into the hanger seconds before the storm-front, reverse thrusters blasting at full power and jolting the occupants beyond what the inertial dampeners could handle. The massive doors slid closed before the ship had settled. Even so, the wind in the large room buffeted everyone and everything within violently. The Base Commander stood waiting for them, stance wide to brace himself against the gale. The Justicar exited first, returning the man’s salute. The others were just stepping out of the craft when he spoke.

“Sir, I need you to come with me to the con. You need to see this.”

He turned sharply on his heels and began to move swiftly down the hallway as the others followed him to the command center of the facility. Once inside, all of the displays showed satellite imagery of the storm. The largest display in the center appeared to be paused.

“Our satellite detected something very disturbing at the coordinates you gave us five minutes ago,” the Commander, a Legionnaire named Kostral said. The massive display began to play, the swirls of the dust clouds clearly visible from space. Suddenly, at the seeming center of the storm, a brilliant flash then an eye in the storm appeared, growing vastly larger by the second, pushing the clouds away. At the epicenter, a shocking, monstrous plume of flame shot upward, spreading across the eye as the shockwave blasted the dust cloud outward. 

“Sir,” one of the ensigns called out. “The core of the anomaly read over 100 million degrees Kelvin. Alpha and beta particles, gamma wave radiation and neutron production are several million magnitudes above normal. Sir, this was thermonuclear.”

A suffocating silence fell in the room. “Ensign,” Kostral said, “You are certain this was a thermonuclear detonation?”

“Sir, it’s the only type of explosion that would produce what we just saw. I estimate a 43 gigaton yield from a hydrogen explosive device.”

“There have been no atomic devices for millennia!” Jager cried out. 

“That facility is in fact, millennia old,” Sasha answered her eyes wide and face pale. 

“No one, no matter how desperate, would detonate a nuclear device,” Jager argued, refusing to accept what he was hearing. 

“The only satellite watching the northwestern hemisphere is ours and its cloaked,” Kostral stated. “The deep desert covers almost three quarters of the planet’s surface and that hemisphere is the worst of it. No one looks there for any reason, but us, and no one knows that we are doing it. An explosion like this wouldn’t be seen by anyone. All miner traffic comes from the opposite direction, to land in the western hemisphere. It’s the primary reason we chose to put this facility here.

“Sir,” Kostral turned to the Justicar, “I’m very sorry, Sir. I know you had men down there.”

“They might have survived,” Misha countered. “Their deflector can absorb a seemingly infinite amount of energy.”

“That might be so,” Kostral replied, “but even if a deflector could hold up to that, the air is now lethal. We are watching the sand storm fold back in over the eye. It’s not as strong, but it is still dumping thousands of metric tons of sand on the blast area.”

Jeff sat abruptly, Gemini’s three mentors startled by his actions. “Glass,” he whispered. 

“Yes, Sir,” Kostral said, as softly and soothingly as he could. “That area is now a solid sheet of radioactive glass, probably 100 meters thick, if not more.”

“And they are encased in it,” Misha gasped.


	12. Chapter 12

_We bring with us the greatest burdens of our combined history. Had the mistakes of our forebears been any more disastrous, none of us would have survived to learn from them. Foremost to all of us, we mourn for the destruction of Earth’s precious and fragile ecology. But I urge you to also keep close to your hearts and minds the failure of the structures of governance and power that brought us to that precipice. Lust and greed transformed the vital, supple organism of government into the lethal, ossified rictus that nearly destroyed us all. As we vigilantly protect our new home, let us be as circumspect against the calcification of sovereignty._

_— Excerpt of Consul Executus Guy Carlton’s First Inaugural Speech, from the Republican Archives 9 AT_

 

The storm had cleared, and the satellite imagery of the epicenter of the blast extinguished whatever hopes Jeff, Misha, Sasha and Jager had held on to. Everything within a three mile radius of the explosion was, as predicted, glass. The radiation wreaked havoc on the sensors, creating far too much interference to get any kind of reading below the surface. 

“If we had imperv suits, you could walk safely around the area,” Kostral offered. “But what you want to find is buried, and the temperature of the epicenter and the free radical content indicate it will be some months before the site is safe enough to excavate. Right now, even with handheld scanners, the energy residue would prevent them for reading anything else. I’m very sorry. I know this is a devastating loss.” He left them alone in the con, dismissing the other staff out of respect for their grief. 

“It’s better this way.” Misha said softly. “Together. They went together. I can’t think of anything crueler for either of them than for only one to survive.”

“But the war is lost!” Sasha exclaimed. “Our only hope of beating the silicates was murdered and by our own kind.” Tears ran down her face.

“No, not lost,” Jeffrey said. “They gave us tools that might make the difference. Their new deflector array will save untold lives. They proved the Gemini Defense was possible as well. If we loved them, if we honor them, we will push forward and use what they gave us.”

“And what of those who did this to them?” Jager demanded hotly. 

“Do not forget that I am still Justicar Psionica,” Jeff countered; his tone dark and dangerous. “I will use every resource at my disposal, every tactic at my command and I will not rest until these murderers are brought to justice. This was a declaration of war upon our own people. I will treat it as such.

“There isn’t anything else we can do here. You need to get back to the Academy. You have the burden of trying to put those young people back together again. A Squadron must somehow continue. It’s Jensen and Jared’s legacy. I will return to Celestus. ConEx and the Praetor need to be informed of what has happened.”

“What about the families?” Sasha asked.

“I will contact them as soon as I convene with Tomis and Hollis. We can’t keep this a secret from the worlds for long,” he answered. “In the mean time, you need to keep your eyes and ears open. Someone betrayed us. I don’t know who or how, but there is no other explanation.”

“Leave that to me,” Misha said. His eyes had grown cold, hard and vicious. As deeply as he hated to see this change in his friend, Jeff had no doubt that if anyone could ferret out the traitor, Misha could do it. 

They rose to their feet, walking silently to the teleporter. They would return here in a few months, to gather the remains of their beloved friends, to inter them with the honor and respect they deserved. Misha’s foot faltered as he took the step up to the platform. On the other side, when he would materialize at the Academy, he would be walking into a world without Jensen and Jared. It was not a world in which he wanted to live, but for now, he had work to do out of love and devotion to two extraordinary young men. After would come after. Only then could he find the release he so desperately wanted.

_________________

Somehow, though he could neither remember the journey or how he had the strength for it, Jeff walked into his suite of offices at the pinnacle of Psi Min Tower. Cindy took one look at his wan countenance and decided to only give him his most urgent messages, and save the rest for later.

"Sir," she said gently, "Pontifex Maximus Tolliver has called after you several times. He says it is not urgent, but I thought you should know."

"Thank you," came the rough, nearly whispered reply. "Please contact ConEx and Preator Primus. I need to see them here immediately. The urgency cannot be overstated."

She nodded her understanding, her alarm growing by the moment and watched the normally tall proud figure of the Justicar Psionica, hunch-shouldered, walk slowly into his inner office as though each step cost him a great personal price.

The door sealed shut; Jeff walked to his desk and sat down heavily. Misha had insisted that he would break the news to Samantha and the remainder of A Squadron. He urged Jeffrey to share this burden, to take care of what had to be done officially and let he and Jager and Sasha handle things at the Academy. He had gratefully accepted, knowing the coming few days would only further wear him down.

He did not know how long he sat there, but it couldn't have been more than a few minutes later when his two friends entered. He gestured for them to sit, and they both paled at his haggard complexion. Once they were seated, he knew no other way to do this than straight ahead.

"Gemini are dead," he said. "Two days ago, the fighter that Jared was co-piloting was destroyed by an explosive device. He, Alona Tal, their pilots, Sebastian Roche and Nicole Aycox were presumed dead." He continued the tragic tale to its completion, the image of the great heroes of the Republic, humanity's great hope, buried under meters of radioactive glass.

Both Hollis and Tomis looked like they would be sick. He gave them the time they needed to absorb all he had told them.

"One of our people did this?" Hollis asked.

"If you are asking if this was silicate caused, the answer is no," Jeff said. "This was an act of murder committed by humans. It takes no feat of logic to figure out these were the same people responsible for the incident at the Basilica. Right now, I know there is a traitor within my ranks, and the list is short. Only the pilots, the copilots, myself and Optia Ferris knew of the exercises that day and the locations. I have to suss out this person, hopefully not persons, and when I do, I will rend every last molecule of information from him."

"So, this is it,” the Praetor said. "Our hope snuffed out. The doom of humanity is upon us.”

"I just don't know, Hollis,” Jeff answered honestly. "Gemini gave us things that might turn the tide of the war. I've kept you both apprised of them, and it was the final testing of the Gemini Defense that brought this devastation on our heads. I can't dishonor them by giving up now."

"No, you are right," Tomis replied," but keeping hope alive for the rest of the Republic in the face of this disaster will be no easy task."

"No, it won't," Hollis added. "We will have to hold Conclave. Alert the other Primes as to what has happened. I would like to have a plan in place to present to them before hand. We will have no more than a day after that before a General Conclave must be held, and at that point, we have to announce it to the worlds."

"Their families have not been contacted," Morgan said. "I held out, desperate to believe we would return with Jared. Now, they must be told."

"Is it time to unleash the full power of our offices against those who perpetrated this crime?" Tomis asked, hotly.

"I don't even know anymore," Jeff said tiredly. "Before, I wanted to keep the boys safe, to unearth everything these conspirators had planned. Right now, I am facing about the worst possible week I can imagine. Somehow, I have to get through it. You want to unleash the hounds, by all means do it. I’ll head up the investigation after…after." His voice trailed off into a whisper, his shoulders sagging.

Tomis and Hollis exchanged deeply concerned expressions. In their years of working with Jeffrey, they had seen many sides of the man, but they had never seen him defeated. Somehow, someway, they had to shore him up, get him tentatively back on his feet before Conclave. The problem was, they had no idea how to do that. The trio sat in painful silence until the chime on the Justicar's com alerted

"Yes," he answered.

Cindy's voice replied, "Sir, the Pontifex is here. I know you are in a meeting, but I wanted to check with you before I sent him away."

Jeff looked at his friends, and they gave him the go ahead. "Please show Sryon in, Cindy."

The Pontifex Maximus, formerly the Pontifex Bello, held the highest scholarly position in the Republic. The curation of history fell to the pontifices, and they took it as seriously as a priesthood. Sryon looked old for his two-hundred plus years. To Jeff's eyes, he had aged considerably since their last meeting. His hair had gone almost completely gray, unheard of when the average citizen stopped aging at about 30. Theoretically, humans should live forever, but while their bodies may have been released from the aging process, their minds had not. The average life expectancy in the Republic hovered around 450 years. Sryon did not look like he would live to see the next year. His eyes were blue-gray, bright, keen and discerning. They gave glimpse of the powerful mind of the man. He looked somewhat shocked at the presence of such an influential audience, but it was the look on his old friend and pupil's face that alarmed him.

"Jeffrey," he said fondly, gently. They two men moved to embrace. Greetings were exchanged between all and when the older man finally took his seat, Jeff began to fill him in on everything that had happened. Then Sryon did something that Jeff had never imagined he would do. He cried.

"Oh I am so very sorry," he said. "Both for the magnitude of your loss but also my blubbering. Pardon an old man, would you? I had come here, actually I’d been pestering that young adjutant of yours for two days because I wanted to see you specifically about Gemini."

"What did you want, Sry?" Jeff asked.

"I had been refreshing my memory on some of the early Republican histories. First and second century texts, to be precise and I came across something I had not noticed before. During that exceedingly difficult time, two individuals, one male and one female, rose to tremendous influence. The two, though not linked romantically as far as I can tell, served as the de facto rulers of the Republic while the worlds were colonized and the formal trappings of government and society congealed. I can find nothing in any record that offers anything but effusive praise for them. They served the people of the worlds valiantly and at great personal cost. They were given the title Archon."

"Archon is a last name," Jeff replied. "One of my men has that surname."

"Oh yes, but it was not a surname before that time. No census records indicate the name in use prior to them. I think you will find that your Jager is a direct descendant. The remarkable thing about this position is that it was more than an honorarium. It gave them extraordinary administrative powers. You know, the fledgling Republican government at that time had not been as thoroughly organized as ours, but much was the same, then and now. It appears that a unanimous decision by the prime leaders conferred the title. It really is not a wonder to find such a thing. I have no doubt the Archons were extremely valuable for the time and needs then. The people needed decisive leadership from individuals they could trust completely. The pair gave just that and they remain the only Archons on record."

"So what did this have to do with Gemini?" Hollis asked.

"Oh, you see, I recall when several of you were grappling with what honors and rank to bestow upon them after their extraordinary deeds," Sryon replied in his rambling fashion. "I had intended to bring this bit of history to all of you. I wished to propose that such a move might suit all of our purposes. This war has taken so much from all of us, and those boys gave us all hope. I had wanted to see the title Archon conferred upon them. 

“Firstly, for practical reasons, given no one actually understood their abilities, a commanding officer designation seemed a bit foolish, and their character had been thoroughly validated by their deeds. The black card status helped to a degree with that, but we all agreed that when they formally entered service, issues of command and other details would likely prove problematic. The title would not have released them from the command structure completely, but would have given them latitude to do precisely what it was that only they could do. It seemed at that moment, such a tidy solution. I don’t know that I can quite grasp that it is no longer an issue.

“But I suppose more than anything, I wanted to see them lifted up before the worlds, that title of old speaking of extraordinary figures guiding the way, restoring hope to those who had lost it. I know it is a wildly romantic and old-fashioned notion, but truly, but just by being who they are; they helped all of us so very much. Young, handsome, charismatic. Powerful. This sad news I fear will hit everyone hard. Our hope was already so very fragile. I don’t know that it will survive this blow.”

Jeff smiled kindly. "It was a lovely thought Sryon. I wish nothing more fervently that we could have honored the boys that way.”

Sryon patted his friend's hand, offering what little comfort he could.

"And what says that we can't?" Hollis asked his voice far away and thoughtful. "We need to do something, take some great stride to keep humanity from growing completely dispirited. You said that the boys left behind things that might help us. Well, then our job is twofold: we must do all within our power to transform a debilitating state of mourning into an inspirational celebration of two phenomenal men. And we need to rally humanity to the cause."

"Even as their very last act, Gemini could give us that," Tomis said softly. "The heroic figures. The inspiration to move forward, to meet our foes. We could posthumously give them rank as Archons. Create in them a rallying point for all humanity."

"It is a most lovely gesture," Jeff said. "And no two deserve it more, but I don't want them turned into martyrs."

"No Jeffrey, they can't be martyrs." Sryon gently corrected him. "For revenge is not the motivation here. For them to be martyrs, we would have to turn anger, betrayal and hatred inward, seeking out the villains among us who did these unspeakable acts. No, they will not be martyrs. They will be icons."

_________________

Optia Samantha Ferris, Mistress of Disciplines to the Academy Psionica, sat in a large, soft chair that was perched before a massive window in her quarters. One of the perks of her position was these rooms, some seven floors above the campus grounds. From here, on more occasions than she could recall, she had watched, enthralled, as Lyrea revealed her alpine splendor. The magnificent view often restored her, helping her overcome the trials and tribulations that came with being steward over thousands of young people as they came to grips with their remarkable powers and, usually more difficultly, who they were as individuals. Today, she found no respite. 

The cup of tea in her hand had long since grown cold. 

When Misha, Sasha and Jager came to the temporary quarters where the remainder of A Squadron had settled, she knew immediately the worst had happened. Jeffrey wasn’t with them, but more importantly, neither was Jensen. Three pairs of eyes, hollowed out by despair and trauma offered her all the answers she needed.

The boys would not be coming back to the Academy. Not now, not ever. 

It was just too much. Five people had been killed, no murdered, and by their own kind. She still remembered Sebastian and Nicki from their time at the Academy. Long ago she had made a type of peace with herself, with her role and lot. When the Adepts graduated from her care they would be sent to the war. She knew that. To the best of her ability she had accepted it. These young men and women would offer the only hope for all of mankind. Too many of them would not survive, but those concerns happened after they had been entrusted to the care of others. 

Alona, Jensen and Jared had died while under her guardianship. She knew she felt more for them than she should. Especially towards the boys. No matter what mountains life kept dropping on them, they struggled and finally stood up under the weight. They evoked her strongest protector impulses. She didn’t even try to deny or mitigate those feelings. They needed everyone they could possibly get to be truly, unconditionally on their side. She gladly took that on. 

But now, the Optia had work to do. She had young people hurting more than any group she had ever seen at the school. She needed to help them find a way to put the pieces of their lives back together. Frankly, she had no idea how to do that for herself. Jeffrey had gone on to the capital, no doubt to set the machinery of government in motion. No one within the Republic would be unaffected by this. The announcement would come soon, and she needed to begin to prepare for the fallout when the student body found out that three of their own had been murdered. 

Nothing had ever prepared her for this. Somehow, someway, she needed to figure this out and get to work. 

She did not move from her chair.

Tom feared for his ribs. Erica held him so tightly and her fists were clenching the fabric of his uniform to the point he wondered if the material would ever lay flat again. In truth, he didn't mind any of it one bit. He could not express his gratitude to her. She had given him something much less painful and agonizing to focus on than his own grief. He rested his cheek on the top of her head, placing gentle kisses and murmuring comforting sounds into the mass of brunette waves. 

The moment he had seen Misha's face, he knew. Of anything to be even remotely thankful in this whole catastrophe, he strangely took comfort in the fact that his beloved best friends had met their ends together. The thought of Jensen entombed in that damnable stasis chamber for the rest of his life had made him ill. It would be worse than death for Jensen and for the rest of them. That did not however, truly assuage the pain of the loss. Their absence ached like a sucking void in his chest. He would never see Jared throw his head back as that barking laughter of his echoed around a room. He would never see the extraordinary love shine in Jensen's bright green eyes when he looked upon his beloved. Now, these details, little moments smattered throughout their times together, came to him in startling clarity. In one regard, he was so very glad of it. He cataloged them, feverishly committing it all to memory. Because he would never have the chance to see them again. 

Erica's breathing had sped up from the gentle rise and fall of her slumber. The tears had started again. They had so much to be thankful to their lost friends for, not the least of which was finding each other. He knew Erica now hurt for the loss of things she would never again share with them, of things hoped for from which they would be achingly absent. They had talked in some detail about marriage. Tom knew she was it for him. He would never find another, and he knew she felt it too. They wanted a traditional ceremony, one of those gloriously old-fashioned ones from the ancient traditions of Terra. They wanted Jensen and Jared to stand at their sides in places of honor to witness their joining. It made a lovely picture, one even Tom had gotten excited over. They had stored it away, safe in their hearts for the day they all left Academy and could officially announce their intentions. 

The picture would forever remain safely guarded there, because it had no chance of becoming a reality. 

He had to think on other things. He had to focus on Erica. If he dwelt too long on the never-will-bes he would lose himself in his anguish. Erica had suffered enough. He held tight to her, to his control, and to being in this moment. 

For now, it was all they had.

_________________

For as long as she could remember, Nazomi had known that of the two of them, her brother was by far the more emotional. He had always felt things more deeply, more keenly than she. Their father often delighted in the difference, stating the long and proud heritage of their family, of the passionate men. Raidon clearly carried on the tradition. It had not surprised her in the least that her brother would find love first. She had always expected such. She endured constant insults about being cold or frigid, but gentle Raidon knew better, flaring up in rage at those who spoke of something they knew nothing of. Yes, he was always her valiant defender. It could only be fitting that love come to him first.

She had watched the developing affection between him and Alona proudly. Alona was a fine match for Raidon's bright, if not mercurial, temperament. She somehow managed to balance him without diminishing that glorious spark his passions gave him. Nazomi had whole-heartedly approved of the match. She waited with almost as much anticipation as her brother for the end of this term. Alona would return to their family home to be introduced to their parents. Their father would instantly approve, him being like his son. Mother would be more hesitant, but in this, she would turn to Nazomi for guidance. 

Now, all of Raidon’s plans and dreams had died in that damned canyon along with his love. She never considered herself to be empathic, but she felt his agony as though it were her own. They had curled up together on a small sofa in their temporary quarters and she held him, fingers carding through his thick, straight, black hair. It reminded her forcefully of so many times in their childhood when he would seek her out for comfort. From nightmares, bullies or from Mother's rebuke. Those problems always dissolved away into nothing as the twins held on to each other.

But not this time. This loss would leave him scarred. She knew he would be less. He would smile less, laugh less and love less. He had lost his love, and part of the vibrancy that made him who he was. She had lost a good friend, a future sister and a part of her brother that she had always cherished and guarded. 

And they had lost Jensen and Jared. It surprised her how well Raidon held together in the face of it all, but his strength matched her own. She knew that they would in time, move on from this. Now was not that time.

_________________

Sasha and Jager sat propped up against each other in the Uncommon Room. As far as they knew, no others had been back here since the canyon. This place with its warmth and comfort radiated so many of the things that were Jensen and Jared. Sasha knew that Jager suffered acutely. She knew that words spoken nearly a year ago haunted him. Somehow, in that mind of his, he had taken on guilt for their deaths because of his call to the Justicar to end their lives before they became too dangerous. Sadly, she could do nothing to help him in this. He would have to find his own way free of his guilt. All she could do was be there to support him, to guide him and to pick him up when he stumbled.

She knew he would do the same for her. Her thoughts returned to the chaotic state they now assumed when she didn't focus on someone or something. The magnitude of this loss hit her from all sides. They had been her charges and she their protector. She had failed them in that. They had been hope when she had all but given up. The constant struggle not to collapse into despair pulled at her incessantly. She knew that the legacy of Jensen and Jared might turn the tide. The things they left behind might be enough. It was only a glimmer, but it was there. But the bleakness of her grief, the loss of two young men she deeply cared for and respected, the blackness engulfed the little spark of hope. 

It would take all of them to get through this and to mourn. She also knew it would take all of them to watch over that spark and foster it to become a flame. It would have to be enough. None of them had a choice. 

Tears fell down her cheeks and the idea of carrying on was a cold knife in her heart. She wanted to swat the tears away, to curse her weakness. A gentle finger wiped one away and she looked up, lifting her own finger to wipe away Jager's tears.

_________________

The dark curtain of Chris' long hair surrounded Mike's face. Chris would swoop down to kiss him, a ravishing almost violent motion that matched the furor of his lover's hips as he drove himself harder and harder into Mike's prone body. He never passed up an opportunity for sex with the medic. Chris was every bit as fiery and all consuming as he knew he would be. Part of Mike wanted to stop this. To just gather the shorter man into his arms, giving him permission and sanctuary to fall apart, but he knew Chris would resent that. Right now they both needed, more than anything, to feel alive. To feel each other and know they both lived. Jensen could just have easily switched with Chris instead of Alona. Mike could be left alone in his grief and that gave him a pang of guilt. He certainly wasn't glad Alona was dead instead of Chris, but still. The thought of going through this without him would make it so much worse. 

They didn't talk about Jared and Jensen. They didn't talk about what would happen next or what the next steps might be. Saying it would make it more real than either of them could handle right now. 

No this, this rough, burning, wild joining was what they both needed. The official announcement would come in the next few days. Then, then they could start to deal. Right now, they just needed each other. 

Chris' orgasm rocked through Mike's body, pushing him over the edge with his lover. Chris had never been quiet during sex, but tonight his yell left Mike's ears ringing. They both glistened with sweat, breathing hard, Chris looking wild-eyed and gasping for air. The gasps began to slow and then before Mike knew it, the gasps turned to sobs. The shorter man just collapsed on top of Mike and he instinctively wrapped his arms around him, holding him close. 

He didn't offer platitudes. He didn't offer words of any kind. He just held on. Words would come later.

_________________

Misha sat unmoving, his legs and feet twisted up in the ancient lotus position This crystalline room where he had spent so many hours with the boys, teaching them and learning from them. He had used this room to find peace and centeredness since his days at the Academy. Truthfully, that room had been destroyed with the first spire. No this was truly Jensen and Jared's room, and tonight, peace and his center would not be found. He wasn't even seeking either end. The best he could hope for would be a diminishing of pain and to find strength to make it through another day.

Strong emotions to Misha were simply a part of everyday life. He had learned in this institution how to deal with them, mitigate them and block them out of necessity. Years of training, years of trials and years of experience failed utterly in the face of this. He knew he had gotten in too deep. He had invested far too much emotionally in those two. The warning signs were everywhere. His attitude toward the Justicar and his responses to every peril they faced. Somehow, the idea of losing them just never entered his mind. There had always been this belief, unvoiced and unquestioned, that somehow, someway, those two would always pull through. 

But they hadn't and Misha was falling apart. Years ago, the violent waves of emotion, some his own, but mostly from others, had driven him to consider suicide once before. He had wisely sought help from his instructors and they had immediately sprung into action to help alleviate his pain. But this, this was different. The pain was entirely his own. He couldn't begin to function without full blocks in place. One trace of the agony of the others would be his undoing. 

So here he sat, in a place redolent with memories of his loss and failure, seeking what would not come. 

"Enough!" he shouted into the silence, violently pushing away all thought and feeling. In the brief internal silence that followed, he heard it.

The music. Oh how easily he could slip into it, losing himself completely, never surfacing and never wanting to surface. He latched onto it with a ferocity that almost surprised him. Yes, that blessed calm, that glorious elation. It tasted like sweet, cold water in the depths of a desert. He wanted. Yes, he wanted to just let go, plunge in and never come back up but even though he tried, he couldn't.

Something pushed him back. It certainly wasn't himself. It was like the music wouldn't let him. He puzzled at it, examined it closely and he had no idea how long it took him, but there, in the song, he felt them. How he knew it was his boys he had not a clue, but with every fiber of his being he knew. 

They lived if only in that song. It was enough.

_________________

The day of Conclave, for Jeffrey, would be agonizing. Before the private meeting of the prime leaders of the Republic, he had to meet with the families of the victims. First, he met with the Roches and Aycoxes separately. He did his best to assure them that their loved ones had served with honor and dignity; their sacrifice would not be forgotten. The Tals had to be sedated after he told them that their lovely, young daughter was gone. Their complete shock he expected. The pilots had been in active service for several years. Their families lived with the daily fear for their loved ones. It certainly didn’t diminish their suffering or loss, but they were not as completely blindsided as Alona’s poor parents. When they had been entrusted to medical care and supervision, his office sat empty and quiet. 

He supposed, in that moment, he understood how Sryon could look so much older than his years. Jeffrey was not a proud or vain man. He had never wanted anything more than to be a scholar, his dream of being the first to record the fascinating history of his kind, of the Adepts, now but a fleeting memory. He became a warrior, worse than that, a general. The function of his office now solely dealt with training up talented promising men and women and sending them into battle. He knew the stakes. He knew the alternatives, and sadly, no one could do the job better. He did it. It was his duty, and to do it, he had put aside his own desires, goals and ambitions. 

Once, longer ago than he could really clearly remember, he had thought it would be lovely to have a wife and a family. He hadn’t really understood until he prepared himself for the next few hours that he had surrendered that dream. The emotional entanglements required were something he simply could not afford. He still had nightmares from the first battles he saw, remembered vividly the details of the assault, the lives lost. His duty required him to consign so many people to their deaths, but for his own sanity’s sake, he could not allow his heart to feel it. Any of it.

But somewhere in the past year, two young men refused to be held at bay by the fortress walls he had so carefully erected. Hell, they refused to acknowledge they even existed. 

But sitting down with the Ackles and the Padaleckis nearly did him in. Misha, Jager and Sasha had asked to be present, and he was thankful to them for that. When Donna and Sheri entered, it was clear they had been crying for some time. Their husbands looked ashen and frail. The children of both families entered together, as a unit, clinging to each other for support. It held no surprise to Jeff that the mothers would never break physical contact with each other, and they didn't for the entire meeting.

"I am," Jeff's voice broke. "I am so sorry." He got no further when his grief, suppressed for days overcame him. He had been forced to tell far too many families of the deaths of their brothers, sisters, sons and daughters, but today, he had no strength left.

With open arms, they brought him close, sharing the intimacy of their grief. No blame, no recriminations against him or his office or his people. This group simply embraced them all, for all had loved the boys dearly. This loss was too great for any one of them to carry. Without words, the three groups, three different families in a way, merged into one, and gave release to their heartbreak, their pain and their suffocating loss. As one family, they wept for their boys.

_________________

Jeff was the last official to join the Conclave. One look at the man, with his gray complexion, bruised, reddened eyes and no one spoke a word. The large, round table sat precisely in the center of a chamber of the Basilica that was rarely used. The outer walls formed the outmost of a set of concentric circles from the dome to the chandelier, to the wood inlay on the table’s glasslike surface. The venue, the only one used for Conclave, reinforced in every detail a leveling of privilege and position. In Conclave, all had equal power and voice. 

The attendees were the five Justicars, three Consuls, two Praetors, the Princeps Major and Minor, and they sat in their assigned positions. Not one of them permitted to sit beside others of their own administrations. The Pontifex Maximus represented his order and would record the events of the meeting for posterity. Conclave only met during times of great crisis or to appoint replacements to key government positions, and those who attended by mandate were known as the Prime Leaders of the Republic, or the Primes. The meetings were few, highly confidential and the agendas never revealed beforehand. Any Prime could call a Conclave but the privilege had never been abused. Thus a summons to one had for millennia been determined as the highest priority. After matters had been dealt with to the Primes’ satisfaction, the Pontifex Maximus would call a General Conclave, the assembly of all key elected and appointed leaders. He would then report all that had transpired in Conclave, not only to the leaders present, but to the worlds via broadcast. By law, he had no longer than 72 hours to hold the General Assembly. 

As the gathered leaders waited, Jeffrey summoned whatever remaining strength he had and addressed the group. “It is, with most profound sadness that I must inform this honored assembly that Centurions Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki have been killed. Gemini is no more.”

He looked down at his hands, trying to control his emotions, too tired, too wrung out to look up. It wasn't until Hollis took over for him that he realized that the room was completely silent. He had expected anger, fear or some volatile emotional cocktail that would overwhelm them all. He looked around the table and saw shock, sadness, disbelief and something he had not expected aimed at him. Many eyes remained on him, but none held anything more than sympathy or respect. Most of the eyes were filled with tears. He wanted to catalog each face, each expression. He knew that in this room at least one person had been complicit in the death of his beloved boys. Either the conspirators were far better actors than he could discern, or the empathic tampering had been so complete, they didn’t know of their own guilt. He was simply too worn out to tell.

“This news brings with it unspeakable sorrow and no small portion of fear,” Hollis stated softly, his voice heavy with emotion. “The full details of this event are not yet known, but we can say to a certainty, that these young men were murdered by fellow citizens of this Republic.”

The resulting outrage tossed the meeting into chaos. It was only the stentorian bellowing of the Praetor Primus that restored order. “An investigation of a scope and scrupulousness not seen in centuries by this government has been launched. Normally, the Justicar Psionica would head such an inquiry, but this heinous crime has so deeply injured the person of the Justicar that, at his request, the Consul Executus will spearhead the probe. I am certain no one will object to this course of action.”

Tomis smoothly took over. “We are all acutely aware of the colossal burden for our Republic that the Justicar Psionica and all Adepts bear. That such a heinous act could be committed against not only men in the full blush of their youth, but who had repeatedly demonstrated ability beyond reckoning and single-handedly returned hope to us all in our hour of darkest despair. That our own species, on the brink of extinction, could do such a thing inflicts all of our souls with an anguish I personally cannot begin to express. I possess not the capacity to even begin to understand the betrayal and distress Jeffrey must feel. We the Primes, must endeavor with all our strength to support him and Adepts everywhere and to bring the guilty parties to justice.”

Cries of affirmation echoed off the stone walls. Tomis gestured for all to calm so that he might continue.

“The full resources of ConEx will be brought to bear on this onerous task. I now know that all resources the Primes may contribute to our effort can be counted upon in a time of our need. However, as deeply as our desires for retribution may go, we face an even more difficult task.”

He paused, his gaze sweeping around the table, awaiting a moment in which one of the other leaders would arrive at his implied conclusion. Unsurprisingly, the Justicar Ingenium, Julian Richings, spoke first.

“Assuredly, the moment this tragic news becomes public, our people, all people, will lose heart, much as we have,” he said in his precise, sagacious manner of expression. “The light of our hope has been extinguished, and by one of our own, no less.”

“Then we should not announce their deaths.” The deep voice of the Consul Juris, Mitch Pileggi reverberated in the ensuing silence. 

“This is not a secret that will be kept,” Richings countered. “However expedient we feel secrecy may be; it is not practical. I assume that this Conclave has been convened precisely because of this. I also assume that our esteemed colleagues have a tentative plan they wish to bring to our attention.”

“You are, as always, a most shrewd and insightful man, Julian,” Sryon answered. He spent the next half hour recounting the events that had led him to this moment and answering questions about the archaic office of Archon. Details from the ancient records as to the duties, powers and restrictions upon the ancient leaders appeared on the scrolls of all present. When the discussion at last died down, a voice that had not yet spoken quietly drew the attention of all.

“Jeffrey,” Consul Legate Kimberly Rhodes addressed her peer. “You have said nothing about this. What are your thoughts?”

“Kim, if this will help the Republic grieve, if it will prevent the complete loss of hope, I won’t oppose it. I feel this loss far too deeply and too personally to be of much use here. I understand the necessity of this discussion, but all I know is that two young men that I had grown to view as sons are gone. Taken from me. So long as whatever is decided here today brings honor to their memory, I will support it.”

Kim’s eyes brimmed with tears. “I understand, my friend. Part of me thinks all of this is an exploitation of a tragic situation, but I think you have the right of it. We bring honor to them, and by allowing the people of the worlds to also bring that honor, we give the best expression of our grief that we can.” She hastily wiped away unfallen tears. “I support this. Sryon has provided us what is likely the only way to salvage something out of an evil tragedy. But may it be known, I support it not for expedience. I support it for Jensen and Jared.”

In the end, the vote was unanimous. Jeffrey had requested to abstain, but kind and gentle reassurances from all present ultimately prevailed upon him to vote in support of the promotion. The call for General Conclave would go out for two days hence. Normally, the Assembly would meet on the next day, but the magnitude of the news the Primes must announce to their peers called for greater caution. The Primes, as always, would be sequestered in the Basilica and all contact with the outside world cut off until after the larger Assembly adjourned. They each had the option of calling their adjutants and assistants to them, but once they entered the Basilica, they too would stay isolated. The ConEx Sergeant at Arms delivered the requests for the adjutants and the summons to the General Conclave.

As the Primes somberly exited the chamber, Kim took Jeff’s arm in hers, and they walked silently to their temporary quarters.


	13. Chapter 13

_Too many of my peers remember the Conrad Conflict and the Tamnagar Accords as horrific setbacks to their research. I think perhaps, they lack the philosophical core to appreciate the truth and importance of both moments in history. When technology seeks however inadvertently, to augment or supersede human biology, the hubris of my sect rises like dross. Our ingenuity may have unlocked many secrets about these bodies we inhabit, but too many mysteries remain to ignore. No matter how desperately we try, science has never been able to create or even replicate that extraordinary spark present in every human being; that indefinable thing that engenders heroism and villainy, intuition and invention, creativity and destruction. Perhaps in some distant future, scientists will succeed in this where we have failed. I have seen nothing to support that prediction._

_— Interview with Justicar Ingenium Julian Richings as entrusted to Pontifex Scientia Elena Colfax in 3130 AT_

 

Raidon stood silent and still amid the familiar, comfortable furniture. The room held more memories than he could actually process at the moment. The late afternoon sun filled the space with warm light and if he closed his eyes, he could see Alona sitting on the couch, absorbed in a book. 

“I’m sorry,” a voice he thought might belong to Katie startled him out of his reverie. He turned and looked at her.

“Come on in,” he said quietly.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt or anything,” Katie said cautiously. Looking around the room she added, “I don’t remember this place at all.”

Raidon smiled. “That’s why Mike calls it the Uncommon Room.”

“So you all hang out here?”

Raidon nodded. 

“Where are the others?” Katie asked.

“Not sure,” he responded. “‘Zomi will launch a full search for me shortly. I figure the rest of them will be here in the next ten to fifteen minutes. What brings you here?”

“Got a little stir crazy,” she replied smilingly. “Haven’t been back here in a while, so I decided to go exploring. See if I could find places I’d never been to on campus.”

“Looks like you found one.”

“Yeah, I guess I did.” She regarded him thoughtfully. “I would ask if you are alright, but I hate stupid questions, so I won’t.”

“Saves us both from asking stupid questions.”

She nodded. “It’s hard for everyone, I know, but the rest of the pilots; we remember what it was like. The first time we lost someone. That’s the hardest one.”

“It gets easier?” Raidon shot back.

“I don’t know if you could say it’s easier, but part of you just grows more numb each time. I think it’s the mind’s way of protecting itself. It’s a shitty thing, really, but that’s just the way it is.”

“That’s not really comforting,” he smiled wanly.

“I suppose not. I’ve heard just about every sympathetic platitude there is. None of them are very comforting.”

“So how do you do it? How do you get past. . . . This?” he gestured around himself, the room a physical symbol of loss, of a comfortable normalcy that would never be the same again.

Katie shrugged, “We work. I think we all get a little obsessive about our duties when something like this happens. Maybe it’s a desire for revenge. Maybe it’s a distraction. I think it’s probably mostly just the relief of being able to do something.”

“Well, that’s gonna be little bit tough for us. All of our duties this term revolved around perfecting the tactic. We don’t have anything else to do.”

“So you just give up? I mean I know it’s going to be hard, but that defense is the best bet we’ve got going.”

“It was called the Gemini Defense for a reason. With Jensen and Jared gone, there’s just no way.”

“What do you mean ‘there’s just no way?’ I get they were insanely powerful, but even from the little we learned as pilots, nothing they taught you required them to do it. I didn’t know them very well, but from what I saw, they sure as hell wouldn’t want us to give up.”

Raidon paused, considered what she had said. He knew she was right. Jensen and Jared would throw a fit if they learned they had just abandoned all they had worked so hard for. Even though it made all of the pain fresh again, he wondered what Alona would tell him. He smiled. He knew exactly what she would tell him.

Afraid she had upset him, Katie placed a hand gently on his arm. “I’m sorry. That was out of line. And for all I know the higher ups may drop the program anyway. It’s not like we can do anything until after the official announcement is made.”

“No, it looks like we are all stuck here until then,” he answered, trying to smile reassuringly at the young pilot. “But you aren’t wrong. The Jays, Alona, they would want us to keep going. I can’t really think of a better way to honor their memories than to finish what they started.”

Just then, an out of breath Nazumi all but plowed into the doorframe. Several other concerned faces appeared as well. 

As the group scowled at them both, Katie laughed. “You were wrong,” she elbowed Raidon gently in the side. “It only took them seven minutes.”

_________________

Jeff surveyed his temporary quarters for what felt like the thousandth time. Their opulence far outstripped his normal rooms, both at the tower and the Academy. However, they completely lacked anything to sufficiently occupy his mind. He desperately needed a distraction. General Conclave would begin in less than 24 hours, and he couldn’t escape the sinking feeling that the announcement would make it all too real, too official. 

Cindy had arrived a few hours ago, with reports, some general busywork that occupied his attention for a while, but now she sat quietly in her adjoining room and worked. He sat on a ridiculously comfortable chaise and warred with his thoughts and emotions. 

The door chime startled him so badly he jumped. No one was permitted into the sequestered rooms, with the exception of personal assistants and aides. When Jeff opened the door, a ConEx personal guard greeted him, his expression mostly hidden by his helmet. Behind the man, stood a face Jeff had absolutely never expected.

“Your aide has arrived, Sir,” the guard said in clipped, official tones. 

“Thank you,” Jeff replied, and Justin Hartley walked through his door. When the door had closed and locked, he turned to look at the young empath. 

“Are we completely alone here?” Hartley asked.

“Yes. Cindy is in her rooms next door.”

“I have something for you.” The tall blond man reached into a pocket of his utilities and retrieved a scroll.

The Justicar reached for it, and Hartley said softly. “Sir, you really need to be sitting down for this.”

He nodded and moved to his chaise. The scroll opened, running through a series of security protocols that could only come from Chad Lindberg. 

For the next two hours, he sat pouring over the information, growing angrier and more nauseous with each detail he read. By the time he finished, he shook with barely suppressed rage.

“Sir,” Hartley said gently. “I am going to calm you now. It’s critically important that you remain calm, because there’s more that I need to tell you.”

Jeff felt the empathic touch, a calming sensation that had always felt like a cool breeze to him. He had no idea why it felt that way, but before he could contemplate the reasons, he realized his heart rate had dropped back to normal, his blood pressure had lowered, and the anger-fueled adrenaline rush had passed. Justin sat facing his commander.

“Sir, on the way here, I did some reconnaissance. The names listed on that triangle thing. “

“The Tectractys,” The Justicar corrected.

“Yeah, that. Not all of them were willing or even knowing conspirators. I know of at least three people on that thing that have no idea.”

“And the others?” Jeff asked gruffly.

“A simple mental probe will reveal that. The problem is the ones who don’t know. If we go charging in, revealing all the names, those people, who have no recollection of doing anything wrong, well, it would be cruel to do that to them.”

The Justicar watched the young empath carefully. He had to concede that Justin had a point. Were he in the position where his name appeared on that list and he had no memory of every being complicit in such crimes it would be devastating. He couldn’t imagine the weight of guilt and self-recrimination that would fall on him.

“I’m guessing you have an alternative plan?”

“Yes, Sir. I have a pretty good idea of who was willfully involved. We blow the whistle on them. But the others? Well, even with this data, we don’t have a good idea of everyone that has been tampered with by the rogue empath. I suggest we launch a government-wide screening. Get a group of empaths who can do the probe and can also heal the minds of those who have been violated.”

Jeff pondered this briefly. “No names revealed. The ones who were coerced will never know. It’s not a bad plan.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“The rogue empath. No information about that is in here,” Jeff gestured to the scroll.

“No, Sir. Chad was still going through all the information when I left to bring you this. After General Conclave, he will no doubt have a full report for you.”

“Any chance Chad will transmit his findings here before the meeting?” Jeff asked hopefully.

“No, Sir. He told me specifically that he would do no such thing, because if anyone found out, it could jeopardize you and the whole process of apprehending these people and bringing them to justice.”

“He was always too damned smart,” Jeff grouched.

“Please, Sir,” Justin grinned brightly. “Never tell him that.”

_________________

Erica stood before the mirror, inspecting her appearance. Her dress uniform fit perfectly, unsurprising given the smart fabric. She had pulled her long chocolate brown hair into a braided bun, with only her bangs hanging loose and framing her face. No, all of this was as it should be. But her complexion, still too ashy, and her eyes, still swollen and bloodshot, for these she could find no remedy. She supposed it didn’t really matter, because in a few hours, she would no doubt be weeping once again for absent friends.

Tom, who had been watching her with concerned curiosity, stood behind her, wrapping his arms around her torso, and drawing her close to his body. He rested his cheek on the side of her head, dropping occasional kisses to soothe her. They did not need to speak. Today would be incredibly difficult for everyone.

 At the moment, the entire group of A Squadron was watching two of their members very closely.

Raidon had lost two best friends, and his lover. They had learned from Nazomi that this was the first time either of them had lost someone very close to them. Fortunately, she had rarely left her twin’s side, comforting him to the best of her ability. He was faring better than anyone could have hoped.

The second, and far more worrisome, was Chris. He had completely closed off. His life had been riddled with deeply personal losses, deaths of far too many of those he loved and cherished. Everyone knew of the devastating loss of his parents and little sister. Had only just found an anchor in his friends but it had been brutally ripped away. Mike assured Tom that the Yserian was in fact dealing, but only behind closed doors. Everyone fervently hoped that Chris leaned on Mike during this, letting him shoulder some of the pain. 

Tom and Erica decided to head down to the embarkation area. The others would be along soon. However, when they got there they discovered that everyone had already assembled, except for the Optia, even though they had another twenty minutes before they were supposed to teleport to the capital. Their gazes swept slowly across their friends, trying to determine how well everyone was holding up. All assembled looked tired, puffy red-eyes, slumped postures, but they had polished their appearances to the best of their abilities. 

The most surprising reaction in all of this had been Misha’s. When he first returned from Tanaes, he radiated a black despair that frightened everyone. More than once the question had come up as to whether or not the empath might harm himself, but at some point that no one could pinpoint, he had settled, becoming almost tranquil. Half of Tom’s mind breathed a huge sigh of relief at the positive change. The other side wondered when the other shoe would drop.

As the minutes until departure ticked off, no one spoke. Most had taken a chair, and had leaned forward, elbows on knees with their faces resting in their hands. In a few hours, the worlds would know that their dear friends were dead. That somehow would make it real. Too, real. The only recourse was to marshal all of their strength and energy, school their expressions and press through the General Conclave with all the dignity and grace they could muster. They would honor their fallen comrades in this way. They could all fall apart after.

When the Optia entered, Erica noted that she looked older than she had ever seen her before. Stress lines had appeared on her brow, around her mouth and eyes and had aged her dramatically. Her appearance was every bit as fastidious as usual, but it seemed as though most of the life had gone out of her. Looking around to the others, they all looked older, less vibrant. Less alive. She hoped they would all recover, but in her heart, she knew the pain would lessen over time, but the diminishing of that vital vibrancy would likely never return. 

Tom reached for her hand, squeezing it tightly in his as the group moved to the platform. Celestus awaited them.

_________________

The Conclave Synodus, colloquially known as “the Senate” was an enormous, circular structure with a high dome. One of the oldest buildings in the Republic, the Synodus had remained largely unchanged since its construction in the first century AT, some three-thousand years ago. As technology advanced, improvements were integrated: the latest in holographic technology, acoustics, and structural enhancements. The architects had thankfully built with an eye to the future and expansion. The original Synod had only 500 members. That number had swelled to over 5,000 in the intervening millennia. Today, the old building would have to accommodate over 20,000 people. 

The forum consisted of nearly 100 concentric circles, separated by retractable walls. The initial 25 circles normally remained open, sufficient to accommodate the legislature. The others were split into wedges, each creating amphitheatres of changeable sizes to accommodate an array of activities. The inmost circle always remained empty. Given the number of Senators, and the size of the venue, waiting for individual speakers to move to the center would be impractical and tedious. When recognized by the Consul Legate, a Senator would simply stand, and his or her likeness would be projected in that empty space, many times larger than life, his or her voice amplified to reach the furthest most ring of the chamber.

Each successive circle from the middle held individual Senators and their aides, their offices in the three hundred floors below the great chamber’s rings. In the first ring, the Consul Legate sat on elevated platform, the Princeps Major and Minor flanking her. Today, the full 100 rings would be required to accommodate the General Conclave.

In the history of the Republic, only 472 General Conclaves had been held. At the onset of the silicate war, several had been held. Even so, this meeting would attract the full attention of the worlds by its rarity alone. The first five rings would be divided amongst the Consul Legate, the other Consuls, the Justicars, the Pontifices and families and friends of the deceased. The sequestered Primes would enter last. The tradition accomplished two important tasks. First, there was recognition of their status within the Republic. Secondly, it prevented anyone, including the Primes, from letting slip any detail regarding the important business at hand. 

The attendees remained eerily quiet as the thousands poured into the chamber. Conventional wisdom held that General Conclaves never brought good news. History offered little to counter that claim. A small group of about 30 people made their way deliberately to their seats. Only they, of the multitude gathered, knew the agenda for the day. Any one of them would have paid handsomely to be here for any other reason. 

Misha had been somewhat startled to find Loretta Divine waiting for them. Though, in hindsight, he chided himself for the reaction. Jeffrey would most definitely have contacted his dear friend. She loved the boys as much as anyone else here. Misha also suspected that the Justicar had reached out to her because he desperately needed someone he cared for deeply to help him through what would be an agonizing day for all of them. 

Loretta, dressed in an elegant suit, walked slowly toward them. That alone communicated how hard the news had hit this dynamic woman. To those who did not know her, she appeared calm, well in control, and largely unaffected. To her friends, she looked as if every minute she remained composed cost her dearly. 

It was a feeling that all of them shared in that moment.

She hugged them all tightly in turn, more than a few tears were shed amongst them all. Misha could not help but be thankful that the Tals, Ackles and Padaleckis would be escorted to their seats immediately prior to the Primes. He doubted any of them could hold back the torrents of emotion were the families with them now. 

The outermost halls and the corridors that led to the various levels of the forum remained disconcertingly quiet. Only the click of footsteps on the stone floor, and the rustling fabrics could be heard. Downturned faces, slightly hunched postures and strides more ambling than purposeful communicated one thing: everyone expected bad news.

Misha wondered if the announcement would meet up to the expectations. Would any of these men and women hurt for this loss? Would it mean anything to them? He honestly could not answer, but part of him hoped the news would exceed his pessimistic predictions. As strange as it felt to him, he wanted that reaction for his boys. Selfishly, he wanted that reaction to know that everyone hurt, even if only a fraction as much as he.

Four deep chimes sounded, reverberating through the corridor. The few stragglers that had yet to take their seats in the chamber immediately converged on the entrances. In less than two minutes, the group stood alone. As though appearing out of thin air, twelve Executus guards, in their royal blue finery, surrounded the group. The Legionnaire greeted them all formally.

“Today, we will part slightly with tradition. At the behest of other Primes, the Justicar Psionica and his aides will join you shortly. Then we will escort all of you to your seats.”

The alteration of custom surprised Misha, but he supposed in this instance, given that all of them already knew the business at hand, the change was understandable. It also spoke to his suspicion that that Justicar himself was not coping well. The Honor Guard encircled them and then turned their backs to their charges as a gesture of respect and protection. Another series of chimes sounded, marking the entrance of the Primes. Misha spotted Jeffrey, Cindy and surprisingly Justin Hartley moving toward them.

One look at the Justicar confirmed his fears. He had never seen the Commander so wan. He looked years older than the last time the empath had seen him, which was only three days ago. Recounting that time shocked Misha. It had felt so much longer. Only four days since the disaster in the canyon. 

His contemplation was interrupted by the arrival of the families of the lost cadets. The families of the deceased pilots had already been seated. Quiet hugs, silent exchanges of sympathies and condolences, the unspoken and accepted comfort, circulated among them all. Misha saw that Loretta had moved immediately to Jeffrey, taking his arm and resting her head against his shoulder. The susurrus of soft sobs in the bright acoustics of the hallway reminded Misha of the wind rustling leaves.

Chimes sounded once again, but the sound had no similarity with the earlier signals. It took him a moment, but Misha eventually realized that instead of the usual, amplified, artificial tones, it was giant bells rang out. Not just the bells in the Conclave Synodus, but all across Celestus. The bells rang in perfect unison, a sad, plaintive melody. 

The Honor Guard turned as one and led them through the open doors in front of them. It was time.

The immensity of the chamber gave Misha vertigo for a moment. One hundred tiers radiated outward from the empty central circle. Four staircases rose from the base to the very topmost ring, while eight sets of doors on every tenth ring gave all access to their assigned positions. All of the doors stood tall, several meters in height, and all made of ancient, heavy wood lovingly cared for and preserved over the millennia. They stood ten tiers from the base of the amphitheatre and silently made their way to their seats on the first ring. 

A rumble echoed around the room, and Misha realized the entire body had stood in silent tribute to them. It took only a few moments for the attendees to realize the implications of the makeup of the final arrivals. More than a few gasps could be heard, but out of respect, no one spoke. Only when all of them had taken their seats did the rest of the assembly take theirs. From the raised dais directly across for them, the Consul Legate stood. 

“I call to order the 473rd General Conclave of the Republic,” she said, her voice amplified to reach every ear present. “Praetor Primus Andres, you have the floor.”

The Commander of the military forces of all the worlds stood. His uniform gleamed with the many medals of Honor he had accrued in his long and illustrious career. He cut an imposing figure, tall and unbent, though some of the vibrancy of the man had diminished. A hologram of his likeness appeared in the very center of the room, magnified by the system to a height of ten meters. 

“The Prime Leaders of our Republic bring to this hallowed assembly the burden of our deliberations,” he began. “Our custom would have another standing in my place to discharge this duty. However, the weight of our purpose and its toll upon one of our finest urged us to, in this instance, depart from our traditions. It is with humble honor and heavy heart that I stand as proxy.

“Four standard days ago, Evocati Sebastian Roche and Nicole Aycox, Decurion Alona Tal, and Centurions Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki were killed.”

The news crashed upon the audience like breaker waves. Cries, gasps, murmurs of disbelief filled the vast chamber. After several long moments, when the outcry appeared to stretch on indefinitely, the loud clacking of the Consul Legate’s gavel-stone eventually restored order. A nod from her and Andres continued.

“The full nature of this disastrous occurrence is as yet unknown. The full resources of our government will be brought to bear in this inquiry. More so than this, however, we the citizens of the Republic take upon ourselves the responsibility to honor our fallen. To extend to the bereaved our support and love. To do this, we must endeavor to not lose heart, to stay true to the faith and hope kindled in our breasts by the courage of these heroes in life. May they continue to inspire us and to compel us forward. In this way, we best honor them.

“I now yield the floor to his Eminence, Pontifex Maximus Sryon Tolliver.”

“We, the Pontifices, take up this onerous burden. As is our sacred responsibility, we shall immortalize the deeds of the fallen for all ages, that those who come after us may learn and know and by the knowing surpass us all. Such is our fealty to all, and so shall we fulfill it.”

The assembled Pontifices replied in unison, “and so shall we all.”

Sryon continued. “Of the steadfast fulfillment of duty we shall tell. Of bravery against desperate odds we shall tell. Of the weight of the worlds placed on too young shoulders, under the strain of which neither did they flinch or shirk, we shall tell. Of hope that had been lost and to us restored we shall tell.”

“And so shall we all,” rang out the chorus once again.

“This and much more will we tell, for that is the sacred oath of the Pontifex. But I must ask, what shall you do?  How will this hallowed assembly pay homage and bring honor to the sacrifices immortal of lives lost too young? For this task before all of you now, kindly permit me to share with you a story from our history.

“We all know the tragic tale of the loss of our ancestral home. We know of the horrors wrought upon verdant Terra by the hands of our race. We know of the struggles of the tiny remnant of humanity to forge a new place among the stars so that our species would not pass into extinction. To the struggles, triumphs and failures of that first post-terran generation we have attended, and we keep them alive in our hearts and minds to guide us.

“We in this ancient hall, represent the fruition of the ancients’ dream. Three thousand, one hundred and fifty-six years later, we hold fast to their lessons. The Republic sprawls victorious. The fatal blindness of our race, the very lack of vision which killed Terra, we have managed to avoid by protecting our worlds covetously against plunder and waste. We have, however, forgotten two extraordinary individuals of that first generation of interstellar pioneers. 

“The dates of the settlements of the seven planets of the Republic can likely be repeated by all here. The milestone moments, when institutions and accords took hold we know as well. But before the construction of this building and the other great and ancient edifices of the Republic began, a man and a woman selflessly led the expeditions and the congresses by which the auspices of our government formed. They served all, asking nothing in return. Perhaps that extreme humility accounts for our lack of knowledge about them.

“In the forty-third year of the colonization of lush Lyrea, Jackson Kitell and Camilla Rothschild became the first, and only, Archons of the Republic. By the unanimous vote of the men and women whose offices would become the positions of the Prime leaders, this unusual rank given to Kitell and Rothschild afforded them the ability to fulfill functions as executor, legislator, and judge. If a situation required action, they had the authority to make it so. If a necessary law had to be created to address an unforeseen occurrence, they had the authority to enact it. If a dispute required mediation, they had the authority to decide, reward and punish. 

“As I read of this highly unusual and sweeping authority, I recoiled. Had our ancestors, whose wisdom we have revered for millennia foolishly created monarchs? I learned quickly that indeed they had not. If any individual lodged protest against one of their decisions, a meeting of those who appointed the two Archons could be called, if two or more of those representatives felt the protest deserved consideration. This caveat later became what we know as Conclave. But what most fascinated me in this obscure history was that of all the decisions the Archons made, of the laws enacted, the actions taken and the verdicts rendered, not one was ever repealed.  In fact, the laws and legal precedence set remain in place today. 

“Thus concludes my tale. What, you may wonder, has this to do with the grievous business before us today? We, like those of so long ago, stand on the precipice of extinction. However, the threat against the continuation of humanity comes not from our actions. Like the ancients, two extraordinary figures rose up to shoulder burdens too great for their peers. To lead all of us from the shadow of destruction. To face down seemingly insurmountable odds and to give hope to the hopeless.

“It is with most heavy heart that I bring this proposition to you. When I discovered this passage of our past, I rejoiced. I declared that I had found a way to reward deeds of such grandeur, that already all of my fellows worked diligently to record them in the annals of our history. I thought I had found a way to bring honor two young men of such surpassing character that only they, among all of us, and, in my mind, of all the intervening men and women between Kitell and Rothschild and themselves, not only could, but should bear the rank of Archon.

“My elation became sorrow. The best and brightest of us all have gone far too soon. Consul Executus Ryselle and Praetor Primus Andres persuaded me that while the privilege and pleasure of promoting Centurions Ackles and Padalecki to this high rank while they yet lived may be denied us, it is for their sakes, and for our own, we should so honor them in death. 

“They gave to us hope in hopelessness. They restored to us tens of thousands of lives  that would have been lost without their intervention. They protected the next generation, upon which our future depends. And, they left behind the legacy that may prove yet to save us all. It is my purpose today to propose the conference of the rank of Archon upon the two young men we have all known simply as Gemini.”

The resultant applause continued for several minutes, before the Consul Legate called the Conclave to order. 

As Tolliver retook his seat, she rose to address the audience. “As is our tradition, the Primes will be called upon to publicly announce their vote on this proposition. I feel the necessity, given the extraordinary nature of this session, to depart in one way from custom. The loss of these young men and women greatly affect us all. But no leader here present suffers more in this than the Justicar Psionica. In discussion of the Pontifex Maximus’ idea, he asked to be excused from the vote. He felt that grief had too greatly influenced him to participate. At the urging of his fellow Primes, he relented. He charged all of us to honor the fallen for they deserved whatever honors we could bestow. 

“What say you, Prime Leaders of the great Republic?”

Ten men and women of the thousands gathered stood straight and tall, but before they could proclaim their support, the sound of eighty heavy wooden doors slamming shut thundered through the hall. Everyone jumped at the sound. All eyes searched around the amphitheatre to try and discover the cause and meaning of this interruption. When the confused furor died down, there, armor gleaming in the lights of the chamber, two figures stood a few meters before the raised dais of the Consul Legate.

It was Gemini. 


	14. Chapter 14

_As of the latest generation of faster-than-light engines, we have hit the limitation of FTL travel. Just as the scientists of old foresaw, the conduits themselves restrict how fast we may travel. This, taken with the gravimetric susceptibilities of the conduits, has remained a steadfast challenge to theoretical physicists for the past 3000 years. In all of those centuries, we have yet to find a way to overcome the obstacles. The implication is simple: we are confined to roughly one quadrant of our galaxy for all time. It is at this point I must reiterate the contention of our conservators: the wild turbulence of our cosmos will always play the spectre of extinction, biding its time to strike._

— _Interview with Laureate Doctor Richard Speight as entrusted to Pontifex Scientia Elena Colfax in 3154 AT._

 

Chaos engulfed the Great Hall of Synod Republica. Tens of thousands cried out, some in fear, some in joy and some in confusion. Only the handful of men and women on a dais low in the chamber stood in silence. Shock rolled off them in crashing waves. Justin had moved immediately to support Morgan, afraid he would collapse and injure more than his pride. 

The deafening clacking of the Worlds Stone in the hands of the Consul Legate upon its base stone in front of her pierced the din. Finally with order restored, her visibly shaking hand returned the stone to its perch and she turned her wide eyes on the intruding pair. She gave them a discrete nod as their cue to explain themselves.

They walked in perfect synchronicity, long, heavy blue capes trailing behind them, the insignia of the Sentinel in vibrant silver emblazoned on the rich smart fabric, down the steps to stand directly across from her. It took more effort than any person present could know not to run immediately into the waiting arms of their friends and families. However, they kept their spines straight, their heads held high and locked eyes with the Legate.

“We intrude upon this hallowed assembly to discharge our duty,” Jensen’s voice rang out across the vast auditorium.

“We come now, before you, at the due conclusion of Secernere,” Jared continued. “It is in the service of this Republic that we allowed the reports of our demise to continue uncorrected.”

“At great personal cost.” Jensen called out, his voice cracking on the last word. 

Legate Rhodes stared at them, speechless, for an uncomfortably long time. Finally, shaking her head as if to clear it, she stood.

“Sentinels,” her voice shaking with disbelief. “To the fulfillment of Secernere, you come at the appointed time. You will always have audience before us.” The words of the ancient script seemed foreign and alien to her. “Speak, so that your duty may be discharged.”

“We bring before you matters of the gravest importance,” Jared responded. “We call for tribunal so that justice may be met.”

“We bring charges of conspiracy, kidnapping, attempted murder, murder, treason against the Republic and 13,458 violations of the Tamnagar Embargo,” Jensen’s voice boomed. 

The resultant pandemonium took a full five minutes to quiet. Again, the loud clacking of the Worlds Stone finally broke through, allowing the proceedings to continue. 

“Is this the fullness of your charges?” Rhodes asked them.

“Sadly Eminence, it is not.” Jared answered.

“We bring lesser charges of some length, which can be heard by lesser bodies,” Jensen said diffidently. “However, to begin we call upon the Conclave Guard.”

Several hundred royal blue-robed guards moved from their assigned positions to points of attention on each circle. All of their eyes were fixed upon the Sentinels.

Suddenly, the projector in the center of the amphitheatre sprang to life. 

Jared’s voice boomed with an astonishing authority. “Captain of the guard! Arrest all these listed here. They will give answer to the charges against them and suffer the punishment meted out by justice.” Suddenly, the closed and by all appearances, locked doors made sense. 

One by one, the holographic image of the accused appeared on the giant projector pad. When the nearest guard had secured the indicted, he or she called out “It is done!” and the next image appeared. In all, 195 men and women of every rank of office in the Republic stood before the Legate’s dais. The silence in the chamber weighed heavily. It appeared no facet of government would remain untouched by these allegations.

Rhodes could not pry her eyes from her very own Adjutant, a trusted friend and ally, standing before the highest body in the worlds on charges that would likely bring an end to his life. 

The final image stunned the gathered masses. Andre Fayon’s proud and handsome face appeared, and even over the outcry of the crowd, his shouts of protest could be heard. Forcibly escorted to the floor by four guards, he glared at Jensen and Jared, but wisely said nothing.

“Are all of the accused hereby accounted for?” Rhodes asked.

“No Eminence, they are not.” Jared answered. He ordered the guards to move the group to one side of the chamber floor. Suddenly, twelve confused and disoriented scientists appeared out of thin air.

“Of these gathered, everyone has colluded willingly in the perpetration of these crimes,” Jensen continued.

It appeared that Fayon had finally reached his limit.

“This is outrageous! Where is your proof, boy?!” he spat at them.

The group parted as Jensen and Jared walked slowly to the Legate’s dais. One by one, long, rectangular pieces of crystal appeared on the glassy surface of her lectern. Setting the fifth and last one gently down, Jared explained.

“These computer memory crystals were taken from the central computers of five illegal laboratories on Tarea, Yser, Preteil, Xepri Major, and Ialon Beta. They were removed from the computers by our own hands. Within you will find the complete record of the communications between each party and a vast amount of data that clearly demonstrate their plans and purposes.”

The Sergeant at Arms approached, cataloged the items and gently placed them in an evidence case for examination. 

“Before the crystals are removed from this building, we require disclosure of the forensic teams,” Jensen urged.

Rhodes looked at them curiously then nodded. The Sergeant produced a scroll and pulled up the names. Of the eleven present, only two had to be stricken, much to Gemini’s relief. 

“You have prepared a summary of the information pertinent to the charges, I presume?” Rhodes asked.

“We have,” Jared answered. “But a word of caution, your Eminence.”

“Several parties involved in this cabal acted without their knowledge. As can be attested to by Psi Min officials, many individuals have been mentally altered by a rogue empath of tremendous power. These men and women will remain anonymous at this time. We urge the Primes to consider this matter separately.”

“A prudent suggestion,” she answered. “Do the Prime Leaders not accused agree to this caveat?”

No one dissented. Rhodes appeared to regain some mastery over herself once more. Her hands moved across the surface of the lectern, manipulating something upon the holovid plate in front of her. Suddenly, the two empty sections of the first ring shifted, and chairs and half-walls emerged from the floor. 

“Guards, escort the accused to their seats,” she called out, gesturing to the empty sections. The Conclave Guard fulfilled the order efficiently and silently.

Once seated, Rhodes called out “Consul Juris Pillegi, will you answer the call for tribunal?”

From somewhere behind Jensen and Jared, a rich baritone answered, “I will, as is my duty and office, serve as Adjudicator.”

“Approach the dais.” Rhodes replied. Pillegi walked purposefully toward her, and then took the seat formerly occupied by the Adjutant Consul Legate at Rhodes’ right hand. Pillegi took a long, hard look at the two young men before him. Invocation of Secernere constituted a huge gamble for them. The ancient tradition, not used in the Republic for over 250 years, allowed certain officers of the government or military to conduct in-depth, completely secretive investigations. The secretive nature demanded very few be informed of the operation. Pillegi had seen the reactions, the devastation, of the Primes, and particularly Morgan, wrought by the supposed deaths of Gemini. Clearly, they had initiated this probe without informing anyone. Sentinels had the authority, but if the findings of the investigation, and usually far more problematically, the methods of the investigation failed to justify the leeway granted the officers, the historical precedent demanded demotion, and the stripping of the privilege. 

The two men’s youth sparked no small skepticism on his part. Secernere required a deep and nuanced knowledge of law and protocol, but as he stared at them, he realized this investigation had cost them dearly. Immediately behind their armor-clad forms sat friends and loved ones, who had all suffered the agony of an apparent loss, an agony that these two men could have ended. He doubted anyone trained by Morgan could shroud themselves in such deep covertness at such a high price without tremendous cause. 

Regardless of his reservations, they had called for tribunal to divulge their findings, and to do so in front of the entirety of the Republic. Again, the stakes seemed to be higher than he could estimate. Whatever these two were about to divulge had better be iron-clad. Fayon was as slippery as they come. Pillegi knew that in this, he could lend them aid.

“You come before us, by your admission, at the conclusion of Secernere,” he said. “Call forth your Vox Veritas.”

Jensen and Jared looked at each other, momentarily stunned, until a voice behind them spoke softly. 

“I will so serve.”

They realized immediately, it was Misha. They could not bring themselves to turn around and look at him. They knew one glance and all of the resolve they had marshaled to see this through would fold, and they would run to their loved ones. That simply had to wait. 

Another voice above them and to their right called out. “Forgive me, Legionnaire. I say this not as an indictment of your ability or character, but in observance of the emotional trauma you have so recently endured. Are you fully able to serve in this capacity without bias or prejudice?”

“Princeps Minor Baritol,” Misha answered. “I take no offense at your concern, as I too would have asked the same were our positions reversed. It is precisely because of my relationship with Gemini and the suffering of the past four days that I offer my services. Only the truth in its fullness could bring honor to their torment as well as my own. Cheap or false justice would be the most grievous insult imaginable.”

The Princeps bowed graciously at Misha’s thoughtful response and said “My concern has been assuaged.” 

 Pilleggi looked around at the other Primes, judging if any would give further objection. When none came, he said, “Sentinels of the Republic, we bid you give account.”

“Have the Primes been debriefed on the events of the Consul Executus’ annual banquet, and the tragedy of Cavalor Canyon?” Jared asked.

“Indeed, we have.” came the reply. “However, details of the event and those that followed have not been made clear.”

“Then,” Jensen began solemnly, “We will attempt to clarify.”

The holodisplay flashed a series of messages, schematics and other pertinent information. “The formation of A Squadron, its location and drills were known only to a handful of people. None of those so informed leaked the information to the cabal. Unfortunately, the responsible party acted without consent, a victim of the mental tampering of the rogue empath, of whom we will speak a great deal more about later.

“The flight plan for the Canyon had been filed only the morning of the proposed drill,” Jensen continued. “If you examine the memory crystals, you will find that the cabal had been monitoring the squadron closely, waiting for an opportunity to strike. The Canyon provided the perfect place. The conspirators had thought to initially mislead the forensics teams into believing a collision had caused the explosions. However, an explosive device had been placed on two of the ships, the two that Jared and I were to be on board. A split second before detonation, the gunners of both ships were transported aboard a cloaked ship in high orbit over Lyrea.”

Andres called out a question. “We have no truly functioning cloaking devices.”

“You will find complete schematics in the crystals,” Jared answered. “You will also find a number of other technologies that had either been banned or abandoned that this group developed ferociously over the past seven years.”

“But Gemini has only existed for less than one,” Ryselle exclaimed.

“We were not their initial targets.” Jensen answered. “That came later. After the events in the Basilica, the kidnappers had prepared two stasis chambers, set to maximum hibernation. They wanted to be certain their victims did not wake. Unfortunately, I had moved to a different ship. They teleported Alona Tal up to the ship. She was killed almost instantly by the hibernation process. The pilots were killed in the explosions. The cabal never intended for them to live.”

Pilleggi took the moment of Jensen’s saddened silence to look at Misha. A nod of the empath’s head informed him that all he had just heard was the truth. 

“Moments before the explosion, I suffered from severe head pain, a sharp pain behind my eyes.”Jensen explained. “Then, I cannot express in words the horror and incandescent agony of the next few moments. My recollection of them is poor. I can recall only hurt. I recall vaguely coming-to in the triage unit, but again, the memory gives way only to agony. The next thing I remember is attaining a level of consciousness in cryo-sleep.”

“I have no real memory of the abduction or the transfer trip,” Jared continued. “I only remember, after some indeterminate time, achieving a state of awareness which we describe as a level 7 trance.”

Again, attention turned to Misha. “I have only experienced a level five trance,” he answered. “But they are not lying. It has been my experience in training them that if any Adepts could attain that level, it would be these two.”

“I call it a level seven because,” Jared stumbled over the words, “because it placed both of us in a state of consciousness outside of space time.”

He waited for the rumbles of disbelief to die down. “Jensen and I were able to communicate then, the same way we always do when we are near.”

“But in this instance,” Jensen picked up the thought, “It was happening in real time, even though we were thirty-five lightyears apart. It was then that we tumbled to what the conspirators had done, where Jared had been taken. I don’t really know how, it’s not something I could even begin to explain, but at that level of trance, somehow we could operate as one. Let me try to explain this. Jared couldn’t take action without alerting his captors. I could. Even though we were still in the trance, we could move and operate my body. Unfortunately, those first few waking moments were lacking in, um, control.”

Jared squeezed his hand and explained. “We overshot the power needed to exit the stasis chamber by a lot. In fact, we basically destroyed MedLab 1 at the academy. The poor medic on duty panicked. She had been injured in the destruction, so we healed her and put her to sleep before she harmed herself. Then the Justicar, the Optia, and our mentors arrived on the scene.”

The memories flashed sharply through Misha’s mind, nothing more clearly than the brilliant green glow of Jensen’s eyes, the way he and Jared both spoke to them without actually speaking. It appeared neither young man realized these strange side effects of their trance.

“We arrived on Tanae, and I led them to the facility where Jared was being held,” Jensen said. “It was an ancient building, built in the first century, deep in the great desert.” The holovid switched to a map of Tanae, zooming in on satellite imagery of the installation, obviously prior to its rather spectacular self-destruction. “But one of those horrific sandstorms beat us there. The others turned around to head back, but I leapt from our transport.”

“You are saying that you jumped out of a secured transport. Into the maw of a deep Great Desert sand storm, free-falling to a fortified installation kilometers below?” Pilleggi asked, startled.

“Yes, sir,” Jensen answered. “The shield we use transduces any opposing energy into more power for the shield. The kinetic energy from the fall, the storm and the static electricity turned the shield into a hypercharged energy source. Using some of that power, I was able to slice through the rock into the facility itself. When the rock was breached, the self-destruct engaged.”

Jensen paused in his description of the events. He and Jared struggled with whether or not to tell of the 37 men and women that Jensen had killed. On one hand, nuclear-powered self-destruct assured none of them could have survived. However, that did not change the fact that they had not died then, but moments before. Both young men breathed deeply and Jensen continued.

“I chose the entry point in the building opposite from the lab where they held Jared. I did not want to leave an opening through which the storm could follow me that might endanger him. When I was safely inside the corridor, I released the power of the shield. All personnel who were in the main passageways were vaporized.”

He stopped again, waiting for the consequences of that heated decision to rain down on both of them. The moment stretched out interminably. When they finally looked up at the main dais, they found patient, sympathetic eyes fixed on them, waiting for them to continue.

“I raced down the hallway to the doors of the lab. They were heavy plastinium blast doors, newly added, judging by the materials of the original facility. I removed them, and found the lab.”

Both young men had to fight back bile and a wave of nausea. It was only going to get worse from here.

“Inside, I found Jared, and forty amniotanks. Each one contained a clone of Jared.”

The reaction from the audience was instantaneous and deafening. Pilleggi and Rhodes had gone pale, their eyes widening. It took some moments before the Consul Legate regained enough composure to attempt to bring the assembly back to order. When silence finally returned, Pilleggi motioned for Jensen to continue.

“I got Jared out of his stasis chamber and destroyed the tanks and their contents. We grabbed the memory crystal from the main computer. I threw up a large shield, hoping it would be strong enough to absorb the blast from the self-destruct.”

Both young men became lost in the memory of the reunion. They continued to recount their tale, switching back and forth. One mind possessing two voices.

_________________

Safely ensconced within the bubble of the deflector, buried under tons of radioactive glass, Jared and Jensen held tight to each other. The flashes of energy outside their shield were so blindingly bright they had to willfully shut them out of their minds. They were together, the abominations destroyed, and nothing mattered more than that. 

The strand of their connection, previously stretched impossibly thin by astronomical distance, hummed vibrantly, now soothing instead of painful. There, on the periphery of consciousness, the others, the remaining abominations worlds away, tugged at them. The wrongness feeling more toxic than the radioactive wasteland surrounding them. Dark strings spread out from Jared like spokes from the hub of a wheel. Five worlds, five laboratories, they knew they had to go to each. The evil work of twisted minds must be undone, and then, justice.

But the first and most dangerous order of business was escape from a molten glass prison. The torturous separation inflicted upon them by Jared’s captors revealed more than they had expected. Whatever force had bound them together transcended space and time. Through the mind-searing agony of being worlds apart, the link held. It held to such a degree that they shared thoughts and feelings instantly. Even the most sophisticated communication arrays had lag. Between Lyrea and Tanaes, the FTL comnet ran at an eleven second lag. Trapped in that horrific in-between place, vast vacuum separating their bodies, they discovered that those lovely strings of energy that had so fascinated them afforded them far more than aesthetic appreciation. Now, they would see if they could in fact translate this new theory into practice. 

A moment’s concentration and the universe revealed the complex fabric of strands and strings which interwove the entirety of the cosmos. The brightest, strongest strands led to the stars. They mentally reached out, finding the string to the Yser system. From the pull of its sun, they found the strings to its orbiting planets, and the vibrant biology of the only inhabited world in the system pulsed a deep green. Drawing more than enough power from their surroundings, they tugged at it. It stretched then recoiled, pulling them with it.

_________________

A shocking and complete nothingness surrounded them. No sound, no light, nothing. They could no longer feel their bodies, only each other’s consciousness. The nothing seemed to stretch out forever, but in fact only lasted a moment. Instantly, the green sky of Yser shone radiantly down upon them, blue-black sands underfoot. The Orinoco, a vast shallow ocean of the western hemisphere, stretched out before them and they could feel the crackling energies of a building storm. No doubt one of the typhoons that raged across the surface daily.

Behind them, a rocky outcropping signified a vast cavern underneath and shelter from the storm. No other world in the Republic they had seen appeared more “alien’ than Yser. The strange color of the sky, the inky blackness of the sands and the purple-blue of its oceans. The shallow oceans created constant, violent shifts in weather. Temperatures fluctuated wildly hour to hour, creating the infamous storms and their resultant winds, flooding and destruction. The constant meteorological chaos re-fertilized the soil nearly daily. The planet’s vegetation had evolved to grow at shocking rates. The tropical forest behind them that formed the border of the beach upon which they stood was made up of fully grown and oddly colored palm trees. The deep fuschia trunks swayed in the increasingly strong wind, the nearly fluorescent green leaves waving to and fro. The trees looked to be decades if not hundreds of years old, but from their courses at the Academy, they knew them to be only two to three days old. 

Yser’s agricultural sector could sustain the entire population of the republic. Crops maturing from seed to harvest in hours or days. No other planet underwent as rigorous monitoring of its imports and exports, constant shipments of replacement material from the other worlds kept a strange interstellar type of erosion from desiccating the planet.

High overhead, glistening even in daylight, the giant space station that formed the orbital half of the system’s capital, Mesius could be clearly seen. They knew, however, that this small island upon which they stood saw no visitors. That suited their purposes well. 

Within, they saw only three scientists, their energies slightly different than guards or mercenaries. The storm could be useful. A precise influx of heat, and the spiral would strengthen, stabilize. It would hit this island in the next half hour, and with their encouragement, would rage for six to eight days. The thick plastinium door the sealed of the cavern would hold up against any number of assaults, and the cavern had no alternative exit. No doubt it was precisely this that caused the island to be uninhabited, and, according to Yserians, uninhabitable. The conspirators seemed to have no qualms with accepting the dangers of a single entrance cavern, so long as it afforded them complete privacy. 

Yes, this would work well to their advantage. 

They stood, holding hands even though their bodies and faces were still covered in armor and watched the storm approach. They watched the waves increase in power and frequency. They had some time before the storm would land and render communications inoperative. They studied the magnificent energies of the typhoon, what fed it, what impeded it, how current, heat, water and wind worked together. Only a few, very slight modifications on their part assured this maelstrom would remain stable and by the time it had passed completely over the little island, a full week would have passed. 

The sky was now dark and threatening, the flashes of lightning and claps of thunder all around them and they turned and entered the mouth of cave. The door gave effortlessly before them, the trio within startled then terrified. The lab held seven abominations, and Jensen disintegrated them to save his beloved from such a vile task. The crystal from the computer, smaller than the one on Tanea, tucked easily in Jared’s armor; he turned and destroyed the cellular samples arrayed across the center work table. One by one, he walked to the scientists, now standing flush against the back wall, trying to put as much distance between him and them as possible. A touch of his metal-encased hand and they fell in turn, each in a state of deep hibernation, not to wake for several days. Jensen fused the door into a solid mass, its edges impregnated in the hard stone of the cave walls. 

Yes, plenty of room here and no chance for escape. This would do.

It was time to move on, and in the flash of a second, they were gone.

_________________

Neither could remember Preteil being described without the words “paradise” coming up at some point. Crystalline seas so deeply blue they had to strain their vision to see the horizon line given that the blue of sea and sky almost perfectly matched. The temperature, even now at the peak of the day, could not have been more than twenty-two degrees Celsius. Given the ocean planet’s unique geography, the conspirators could not have picked a more perfect place to hide a lab. Of the 50,000 plus islands, less than half of them had been settled. With the white sands under their feet and the lush patch of tropical vegetation behind them, Jensen and Jared doubted anyone deliberately came here. It was simply too small to be of interest. But below, burrowed out of the solid rock, they sensed the facility, and the three scientists within. 

One moment, two metallic figures stood tall and gleaming on the sandy shore, and the next they were gone. The tanks, as had become their preference, were the first things dealt with. Then, the scientists were rendered unconscious and sent to join the others. Finally, Jared tucked the central computer crystal in his armor. A split second before they disappeared, they destabilized the rock overhead, effectively pulling the entire island down on top of the lab. Nothing would remain for anyone to find. 

Were it not for the nature of their task, they would have looked forward to the next planet. Xepri Major might arguably be the most unique of the worlds in the Republic. The strange atmosphere and oceanic currents created a tropical zone from pole to pole. The largest culprit behind this strange climatology, the sister planet, Xepri Minor, dominated the late evening sky. Its coral-colored disk striated with white, pink and purple clouds gave the boys what might be the most spectacular view they had ever seen. Xepri had only one, massive continent. At the extremes of the two Polar Regions, the lush tropical rainforest turned to coniferous cloud forest. The energies of the planet, stronger than any other they had set foot on, tingled and tantalized their senses. This world was astoundingly alive. The cosmic music that had become their companion recently took on richer and deeper timbres. The voice, or as they started referring to it, the chorus, while still unintelligible reached new registers of low and high in the symphony. Yet, there, right at the periphery of their minds, something stood out, but the moment they focused on it, it would disappear. It was intelligent, psionic, but with abilities not fully formed. It merited further exploration, but not today. 

Like a cancer hidden under the lushly, verdantly healthy surface of the planet, their next appointment lurked. This facility had been tucked away far into the forest, where humans dared not tread for fear of disrupting the ecosystem. Its presence here was doubly damned. Grasses underfoot became false floor, sky traded for artificial light. Their movements were now precisely rehearsed. Their work done quickly, a few more guests sleeping on Yser, and once again they pulled the roof down as they left.

_________________

New Dallas, the jewel of Ialon Beta, defied any and all expectations Jensen and Jared held. Knowing of its status as the most populous city in the worlds with over 100 million inhabitants could not prepare them for the scale of the city. Ialon Beta’s circumference was purported to be twice that of old Terra, a massive planet with 17 large continents and the highest population of any planet in the Republic. But the people of New Dallas had, like most humanity, learned well the lessons of the ancestral homeworld. The massive metropolis wound about the coast of the largest continent, but took up no more than a few hundred square kilometers. The spires of the city reached higher into the sky than could be seen from the ground level. The ten newest, and tallest, towers supported a massive circle called the Corona. The ring sat ten kilometers above the outer limit of the planet’s atmosphere and served as one of the largest space ports in the worlds. From the bases of the towers to the peak of the crown, the buildings stood some 130 kilometers tall. 

Jensen and Jared had been startled to discover the final laboratory they needed to destroy was high in one of the towers of the city. All the other installations lay thousands of klicks from any noticeable population. Perhaps the strategy here was to hide in plain sight. It had not escaped their notice that the only three planets in the Republic that did not have labs were Lyrea and both of their birthworlds: Therta Prime and Kruis.

A number of challenges lay before them. As they sat on a hill outside the city’s limit they stared at the impossibly tall edifices and tried to piece together how to proceed. Before they did anything else, they needed rest and food. Preferably large amounts of both. The abominations here would not reach maturity for weeks. The pair had already stretched themselves as thin as they safely could. 

They hated the thought that their loved ones would believe they were both dead, and that resting would only prolong their suffering, but they had no choice. Finding lodging and nourishment in the great city would present no significant problem. However, going unrecognized would force them to do something they had never wanted to do. An empathic touch to the minds of all around them would effectively disguise them both. It would in fact, render them invisible to the minds of anyone they came in contact with. It was mental tampering, but they knew of no other way. 

Gazing at the city through the phenoptic sent them both reeling. From the ground to where the towers disappeared from sight high overhead, New Dallas contained so much psionic energy it looked like a titanic beam of pure energy piercing the clouds. Sorting through the writhing mass of concentrated energy taxed them almost beyond their weakened resources. First, they needed a place to teleport to that would not attract attention before they could deal with it. That problem had caused them to materialize well outside of the metropolis. They had been searching for over an hour, and had only in the last ten minutes figured out how to filter away enough of the “noise” to be able to find what they needed. One of the newer towers had several floors of empty lodgings within. If they could acquire food, they could simply squat in one of the rooms until they recovered sufficiently for the last three tasks ahead of them. 

Finally, a plan came together; the elements aligning that would suit their needs. Jensen gathered the memory crystals they had collected and set them side by side on the grass. They closed their eyes and envisioned the destination, finding the needed thread immediately. A tug and the clear crystal chips disappeared. That done, food and sleep held a powerful allure for them both, but in truth, they had no greater need than to rest, skin to skin, together. Armor safely tucked away, they entwined their fingers and disappeared into the giant city.

_________________

Jared and Jensen paused in the recounting of their tale. The faces of the Consuls Legate and Juris, not to mention what they could glimpse from a few surreptitious glances at the other Primes, suggested to them that the tribunal and the audience beyond could use a moment to assimilate the overload of information.

Jared gestured to a steward, and he retrieved glasses of water for both of them. The look on the young man’s face provided the indicator they required to gauge the at-large response. They had decided on a fully public tribunal, guessing at the personal costs to them. The case against the conspirators offered no defense. The data in the crystals damned every last person involved in explicit detail. Closed trials or open, the bastards would not escape justice. Unfortunately, to do this for all the worlds to see would expose things about both of them, powers brand new and unexplored that would likely be the final step toward completely dehumanizing them both in the public mind. 

This would be for them, the day they returned to their loved ones from the dead. History though would record it as the day Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki died, and Gemini replaced them fully. It would show them to be some superhuman deity to be feared and loved. In truth, the sequence of events, choices and morals that brought them to this nexus could not be simpler. Every step they had willfully taken, often in response to the actions of others willfully taken against them, brought them irrevocably to this place. Jensen and Jared versus Gemini. 


	15. Chapter 15

_The damning business of the Conrad cult and Tamnagar Creche Consortium wasn’t what they were doing per se. It was the direct assault they both undertook on our fundamental definition of what it means to be human. The Cyborgs claimed to be superior due to their technological augmentation. The cloners claimed that because they produced duplicates those children and people were less than human. These are two sides of the same disastrous sword. When you distill down the arguments of both sides, you end up with the core philosophies that engendered genocides in our troubled histories. Racism and slavery all grow from the head of this same monster. The Tamnagar Accords attempt to put to rest once and for all that human beings are neither less nor more. They simply are. The most important trials for this precedent are yet to come. We are far from being the final product of evolution. One day, some humans will emerge who possess abilities beyond our reckoning. Until the species truly shifts to something post-human, these accords will stand guard over all of us._

_— Excerpt from the High Court’s decision re: Tamnagar v. The Republic, written by Consul Legate Laristar Atwon in 1157 AT._

 

As the two young men took a moment to further collect themselves for the last part of their testimony, a tech signaled the Consul Juris to be allowed to approach the dais. Pilleggi nodded, and the man, wearing the official seal of the Consul Juris’ top forensic unit, walked purposely toward the seated Primes. He was carrying the evidence case in which the Sergeant-at-Arms had placed the data crystals.

The reprieve gave Jensen and Jared a few extra moments to shore themselves up. The burden of the day had exceeded their expectations. They knew delivering their testimony would drain them, as would having to withhold a few details else they betray some sacred confidences. They anticipated having to brutally block the torrent of emotions blasting them from their loved ones. They had not however, prepared for Misha. They had to maintain their blocks, while at the same time, allowing their mentor a portal through their defenses. Fortunately, Misha’s cast-iron self-control had protected them from what he must be feeling. Juggling all of this was wearing them down, slowly but surely. 

“You have a report?” Pilleggi addressed the tech.

“Yes, your Eminences. The crystals possess the subtle signatures of the worlds in which they longest resided. Their provenances match the claims of the Sentinels. We further find that no tampering to their structure has occurred. The data contained within is accurate and original. The last recorded data entries, the time logs and sensor readings further supports the given testimony. The data have been downloaded to secure servers and are available in full to the Prime Leaders via their secure scrolls. A cursory examination corroborates the claims and charges presented so far today. Deeper analysis, given the magnitude of the data dump, will require some weeks.”

The tech bowed his head to signal the conclusion of his report. Pilleggi mirrored the gesture, a tacit dismissal. 

“Sentinels,” he began. “By your oath-sworn statement, you report that before the infiltration of the Ialon Beta creche, you sent the crystals away. To where and to whom?”

“Your Eminence,” Jared explained coolly. “Given that we had no assurances of our survival of this final infiltration, particularly if the lab had another high-yield explosive self-destruction device, we sent the crystals to a secure location, that in time, our superiors would assuredly find them.”

“And yet, you survived a nuclear explosion on Tanae,” Pilleggi inquired.

“Sir,” Jensen continued. “On Tanae, the nearest population center was some thousands of klicks away, and even then, not containing the number of civilians of one of New Dallas’ towers, we had no need to contain such destruction, merely survive it. Should another such device be rigged to the lab in the city, we would have to contain the explosive energies and somehow vent it all off without harm to people or planet. We did not anticipate that we could survive such maneuvers.”

Another stirring of uncomfortable murmuring erupted from the audience, but this time, it required very little time to die down to the pregnant silence that had so far dominated the tribunal.

“The infiltration of the creche, the disposal of the clones, the sequestering of the scientists and the acquiring of the crystals went without incident. Fortunately, we found no self-destruct device in the facility.”

Jensen paused in his delivery to allow Pilleggi to ask any questions.

“This accounts for all five of the creches and their disposal. Is this the sum of your due disclosure?” the older man asked.

“No, your Eminence,” Jared replied, rather softly. “It is unfortunately not. The final part of our testimony is, to our minds, the most disturbing, and the most difficult. It involves the rogue empath.”

Another murmur rippled around the great room. Pilleggi motioned them to continue, and they began to recount the final chapter.

_________________

Of Ialon Beta’s seventeen continents, Europa was the smallest. Though still large by other planetary standards, the strange rocky land mass only measured 12 million square kilometers. However, the most remarkable aspect of Europa was its great monolithic towers. Republican geologists argued for centuries as to what formed the huge, granite laccoliths. Thirty-seven of them dotted the landscape, all rising 3000 meters above the surrounding landscape. Shear-sided and flat-topped, the smallest of them measured some 10 kilometers across. The continental climate tended to the more arid, but not quite desert. Tourists came from all the worlds to see the strange geological formations, but Europa had fewer permanent residents than any other continuous spread of land on the giant rocky planet. Only one of the towers had a town atop it. The others remained mostly deserted, as air transport or teleporter were the only convenient methods of scaling the enormous laccoliths.

Jensen and Jared admired the spectacular view from the top of this particular tower. The small buildings dotting the flat top land indicated a very sparsely populated settlement. They knew that in fact it only held two individuals. A quick scan, and three pulses of energy disabled the airships and the teleporter in what appeared to be a hangar. Now certain that their targets would have no means to flee, they walked quickly to the central building. 

As they got closer they saw a young boy, who appeared to be no older than nine or ten. They knew not to be taken in by his physical appearance. The phenoptic revealed the inherent danger in the boy’s existence. They realized he had been watching them as they approached; his features placidly calm, almost mask-like. 

When they were within hearing distance, Jared said “Hello Brylan.”

“You are not supposed to be here,” the boy shot back.

“And neither are you,” Jensen countered.

“You are different.” The child’s large brown eyes studied the two young men. The breeze ruffled his dark hair, the sunlight glinting off strands of brown, auburn and bronze. In one hand, he held a toy ship. Another lay at his feet. 

“Yes,” Jared said gently. “We are different.”

“But you aren’t different like me,” Brylan observed.

“No, we aren’t like you.” Jensen looked closely at the child. Their hearts were breaking at what had been done to this boy, and, sadly, what likely would be done to him.

“You came to take us away.” The boy’s eyes darted back and forth between them as he shuffled slightly from foot to foot. “Will we come back here?”

“No, Brylan.” Jared said in a near whisper. “You won’t be coming back here.”

A shout from the house drew the focus of all three. An older man, his age impossible to guess given his graying hair, came running toward them. He kept shouting the boy’s name. He began screaming at Jensen and Jared.

“Get away from him! Don’t touch him!”

“Dr. McNally,” Jensen said; his voice icy.

“How did you get here?! You can’t be here! You are supposed to be dead!” the frantic older man yelled.

“And so is he,” Jared barked, pointing at the boy.

“No! I won’t let you do this! You can’t stop us! This is too important. Too much is at stake. We’ve come too far! Brylan is proof of that! We should have done this from the beginning!” McNally raged. “Brylan, these men are dangerous. Make them obey!”

“Yes, father.” the boy replied, his voice strangely hollow and emptied of emotion.

Jensen and Jared immediately felt the boy’s assault on their minds. They had never encountered this strange kind of empathic energy, but try as the child might, he could not penetrate their blocks. 

Pitching his voice at that strange tone that compelled others to obey, Jared said to the boy “Brylan, enough. It is time to sleep.”

Immediately, the boy’s eyes began to droop, his head nodding. Then he fell bonelessly to the ground, deep in slumber.

“What did you do to him?!” McNally screamed racing to reach the boy.

“He sleeps.” Jensen said, his green eyes flashing dangerously. “You will both sleep, until the moment that we bring you before the General Conclave to be punished.”

Smirking, McNally snapped “You think the government can stop me?”

“You perhaps refer to your friends in the Tectractys?” Jared asked, smiling with malice. “Yes, you will stand trial with them as well.”

McNally’s shock turned immediately to outrage. His madness made him dangerous, primarily to himself, and the Sentinals needed him alive. 

“Sleep,” Jensen said, and scientist tumbled gracelessly to the ground. 

“What will happen to the boy?” Jared wondered aloud.

“It isn’t up to us,” Jensen said, voice heavy with the fatigue weighing on both of them.

The two still bodies disappeared, leaving two lone figures atop the giant granite tower. They took each other’s hands, waited quietly for a signal. Within minutes, it was time to go.

_________________

The atmosphere within the great chamber became suffocating; the thick, crushing silence of a tomb. The holoprojector flared to life, and a strange, massive pyramidal chart floated in the center of the conclave.

“This is the Tectractys,” Jared explained. “One name has been removed as we have evidence that this party’s involvement was unwilling and unwitting. The rest stand accused.”

At the topmost point of the structure read the word “Pythagoras.” Two lines branched off, implicating the Princeps Major and Dr. Frank McNally. From there, a geometric progression of high-profile names associated with every branch of government. The notable absence was a name that should have appeared in the heart of the third row. This was clearly an important player in this scheme, dragged into a disastrous plot that would haunt the Republic for generations. 

“The Tectractys extends downward to encompass all persons involved in this cabal. We so choose not to reveal further levels for the reasons we have previously stated.” Jensen explained. “The single omission is the name at the very top. Pythagoras may be a real person, or merely a fearful spectre concocted by the top-level conspirators. Based upon the evidence presented to you, though circumstantial, the best supported theory is non-existence of the entity.”

Having explained the strange term to the tribunal, Jared moved slightly forward, his tone beseeching. “Your Eminence. The next and final disclosure presents a number of difficulties. First, we will bring the boy here to be questioned. Given his extraordinary skills, he poses a great danger to all present. We can counter him, but this would constitute a form of tampering. It is a morally unpleasant task. It would require the Vox Veritas to monitor the boy very closely, to seek out truth, to monitor our influence over the boy to ensure we are not falsifying the boy’s testimony. At the same time, we must work to protect the Vox Veritas from the boy’s abilities. It will be very difficult.”

Pilleggi regarded them thoughtfully before addressing Misha. “Does the Vox Veritas object to this proposal and does he give assurance that he can complete the task here described?”

Misha’s response was not immediate. Finally, he said “This is a supremely difficult task; however, the onus of it falls upon Gemini. My part will be very small in comparison. I would, however, suggest a few baseline questions that I may examine the empathic interplay.”

“Will this pose any danger to the sanctity of the Vox Veritas’ mind?” Rhodes asked.

“No, your Eminence,” Jensen answered. “It should pose no such danger. We will, however, be questioning the boy without his guardian present.”

“This is highly irregular.” Pilleggi responded. “Precedent will support you if and only if you prove the mental incompetency of Dr. McNally.”

“We are aware, your Eminence.” Jared replied. “We will question McNally immediately following. Of his madness, we are certain.”

Pilleggi nodded his consent. Gemini walked slowly to the center of the open floor, the holoprojector no longer displaying data. A small form appeared between them, lying prone on the floor. Both young men bent down to gently rouse the boy from his imposed slumber. 

“Brylan,” Jensen’s quiet, soothing voice called out to him. “Can you wake up for me?”

The boy blinked owlishly at them, slowly sitting up and a look of panic began to overtake him as he took in his surroundings. 

“It’s okay,” Jared soothed. “No one here will hurt you. We won’t let them, but it’s very important that you talk to these people.” He gestured to the Consuls Legate and Juris. “They need to know about you and the things that you have been doing for your father.”

“Father is in trouble.” the boy stated flatly. “If I talk to them, he will be angry.”

“Brylan,” Jensen rubbed the child’s slightly shaking arm. “Yes, your father is in trouble because he did some very bad things. He wants to do a lot more bad things. Can you sense that I am telling you the truth?”

The boy nodded.

“Your father wants to hurt a lot of people, and I think you know that. We need your help to stop him. No matter what you say here today, as long as it’s the truth, no matter how angry your father gets, he won’t be allowed to hurt you or punish you. We will protect you, but we can only do that if you tell the truth, okay?” Jensen waited for the boy’s response, his eyes locked with the child’s.

Finally, Brylan nodded. Jensen and Jared helped him to his feet and guided him gently to a seat facing the dais but well removed from the accused. 

Misha’s baseline questions, while routine and easily verified, still shocked the assembly. Many knew of the tragic loss of Frank McNally’s son in the war. Brylan Coren McNally had died nearly twenty years ago and yet, here sat what could only generously be described as his perfect replacement. 

“Do you know how old you are, Brylan?” Jared asked. 

“I’m two. Well, I will be at my next birthday in a couple of weeks.”

The boy looked to be ten or eleven. 

“Do you understand what the word ‘empath’ means?”

“Yes, it’s when you can make other people think and do things.” He sat somewhat hunched, not looking up much, and nervously playing with the hem of loose knit shirt he wore.

“Is that what your father taught you?”

“Yes. He said it was important, that some people needed help. To figure out what to think and do and that I could help them.”

“Can you tell us about the things your father taught you? How he taught you?”

“He would tell us something he wanted us to get the other to do, and whoever did it first got rewarded.”

“Brylan,” Jensen asked softly. “Who is ‘us’?”

“Me and my brothers. The other Brylans. There were four of us.”

“What happened to your brothers?”

“Father said that they got tired and needed to rest for a while. I was the only one that didn’t get tired.”

“When your father told you to get the others to do something, did he tell you how to do that?”

“No. He said it was important that we figure that out by ourselves. The one of us who got the others to do something would get nice things, like ice cream or toys.”

“What about the one who didn’t? That you got to do the thing your father asked for?”

“My older Brylan, the oldest one, he didn’t ever seem to be able to get it right. He was usually the one that the others beat. After a while, he got tired.”

“You were the youngest?”

“Yes.”

“And all of the others. Did they get tired, too?”

“Yes. Father said they were very tired and needed lots of rest.”

“Did you ever see them again?”

“No. I’ve been by myself for a while now.”

“Did your father take you places? To get other people to do and think things?”

“Yes. Lots of places.”

“You’ve done really well, Brylan.” Jared soothed the boy. “Some people may need to ask you some more questions later.”

“Okay. Am I in trouble?”

“No, Brylan,” Jensen said softly, his eyes unusually glossy. “You aren’t in trouble. Why don’t you come with me and let’s go sit down.”

The boy nodded his head and stood up slowly. He took Jensen’s hand and was led docilely to a couple of empty chairs. Jensen got the boy seated and then whispered “Sleep” touching the boy’s forehead. The child slumped, and the older man laid him out across several chairs to make him as comfortable as possible.

When he returned to Jared’s side, he could see the horror in the pale faces of the Primes. 

“We now call Dr. Frank McNally.”

A much older man, gray-headed and stockily built appeared before the dais. 

“What is this?” he yelled. 

Pilleggi answered him sternly. “This is General Conclave. You are in Celestus. You are to be questioned before this body. Your testimony will be validated by the Vox Veritas. If you refuse to cooperate, you will be placed under the compulsion of an empath.”

McNally’s face grew impossibly more pale, rage and fear warring in his eyes. The openly hostile gazes of the Primes finally subdued him to the point that he walked stiffly to the seat flanked by Jensen and Jared. 

“You are Dr. Frank McNally?” Jared began.

“I am.” the man answered through clenched teeth. “Under what charge are you holding me?”

“Murder, attempted murder, kidnapping, fraud, violation of the Tamnagar accord and high treason,” Jensen listed. “To name just a few.”

McNally’s eyes widened, his breathing audibly quickening. He glanced frantically around the room for any sign of aid. He stared at Fayon for a moment but the Princeps refused to meet his gaze. 

“Dr. McNally,” Jared began. “You were engaged by the Republican Military Corps to create a psionic field detector, were you not?”

Obviously rattled by this line of questioning he stuttered out an affirmative.

“Did you, in fact, ever successfully build such a device?”

“Yes!” he nearly yelled.

“The witness perjures himself.” Misha stated.

“I did not.” McNally recanted.

“Yet you delivered a device claiming to function as a detector to the Corps. What function did this device fulfill if not to detect psionic fields?”

“It was an advanced tactical tracking and positioning system.”

“Please explain.”

“It could deploy and track a large group of Adepts and alter their positioning instantly in battle.”

“How large a group?”

“It has a theoretical upper limit of 50 million individual units.”

“And yet, there are less than half a million adepts in the Republic.”

“Yes.”

“What did you do with the resources allocated to you by the Corps to build this system?”

McNally paused, looking down at his lap. “I diverted them to other research projects.”

“What projects?”

“A cloning creche.”

“What were you cloning?”

“My son.”

“Your son, Centurion Brylan McNally, deceased.”

“Yes.”

“And why were you cloning him?”

“He was an Adept. It was what got him killed. I was trying to clone Adepts.”

“And yet, every geneticist for the past three hundred years has shown that genetics do not account for the psionic abilities.”

“To our current knowledge, that is correct.”

“So, if you can’t specifically clone an Adept, what were you doing?”

“Statistically, if you create enough clones, some of them would be Adepts.”

“How many clones of your son did you create before you found one to be psionic?”

“I…” McNally faltered. “I don’t know.”

“The witness perjures himself.” Misha called out again.

Jensen and Jared stood straight and tall before the cowering man, their armor still gleaming. McNally searched their faces, and found no sympathy.

“17,983.” he nearly whispered. 

Rhodes pounded the Worlds Stone upon its base to restore order to the gathering as voices once more rose in expressions of shock.

“Dr. McNally,” Jensen began. “What did you do with the clones who displayed no psionic ability?”

“I recycled them.”

“What do you mean by ‘recycled?’”

“They were liquefied and reintroduced into the creche nutrient system.”

The uproar in the chamber became deafening. Rhodes could not restore order. Finally, the command of “Silence!” boomed out, bouncing off the walls and ceilings with terrifying force. Instantly, the auditorium became tomb quiet. Jensen and Jared swept the audience with a baleful gaze. 

“Silence will be maintained for the duration of this witness’s testimony.” The two Adepts spoke in unison, the command carrying such force, no one dared disobey.

“You accelerated the clones’ development?” Jared asked McNally.

“Yes, at a ratio of two years per day.”

“You revived the clones on the fifth day?”

“In the beginning, yes. It took some time to figure out how to test them for psionic ability.”

“Once you developed this test, did you alter the development cycle?”

“Yes. I sped it up to five years per day and would wake them at approximately the eighth year of development.”

“What did you do when you encountered the first psionic clone?”

“I had been getting support and resources from an unnamed source. I kept this person apprised of the project’s progress. When the first Brylan had been verified, I contacted the source immediately.”

“And then what happened?”

“The group that supported all this started building creche facilities. I got the additional resources to expand my creche.”

“And what was the final capacity of your lab?”

“We could develop seven thousand clones at a time.”

“You successfully created four psionic Brylan clones, correct?”

“Yes.”

“The records from the project said that around 13,500 clones had been created, but your testimony indicates the number was much higher. Can you account for the discrepancy?” 

“The archived reports were only the anomalous cases, where something unusual had happened or gone wrong.”

“By the time the fourth Brylan clone tested positive, how many clones had you created?”

“About 90,000.”

“The last successful Brylan clone emerged nearly two years ago?”

“Yes.”

“The expansion of your creche to its final capacity was completed when?”

“One month ago.”

“And you were aware of the lesser facilities throughout the Republic?”

“Yes. I designed them.”

“Why create smaller creches in so many other places?”

“Dispersion of genome samples. Also to let the other teams experiment to see if they could improve the efficiency of the project.”

“By efficiency you mean increase the number of psionic clones in ratio to the non-psionics?”

“Yes.”

“Are those the only reasons?”

“No. Initially, that was all, but then rumors started circulating about ’Superadepts’. We started hearing things about you two.”

“What things?”

“Power beyond anything seen or measured. So, we started working on how to acquire new samples for our stock.”

“You are saying that planning began on how to clone us?” Jensen asked.

“Yes.”

“Again, there’s no substantive evidence of a genetic link to psionic ability. Why would you and your cohorts pursue this plan?”

“We don’t know what makes Adepts, but we did figure out that genomes from proven Adepts are slightly more likely to produce Adept clones than from standard genomes. We don’t know why, but the Brylan clones were predisposed to create empaths. We had a few anomalous manifestations of other talents, but they were all very weak. The strongest, the four I worked with, all were empaths. So, if we cloned the two of you, we could reasonably expect to produce sets of  ‘Superadepts’.”

“Why?”

“So no other parents would have to bury their dead children! Damn you! We wouldn’t even need to make a hundred-thousand of you two and the war would be over! Hell we could even reproduce the soldiers that were lost!”

“So you would kill what? A billion clones to create this disposable army?”

“They are just clones!”

“But you just said you could recreate those killed in the war. Are they _just_ clones, too?”

“No!”

“Then what are they, doctor? What were the thousands of children you ‘recycled’? What were they?”

McNally faltered, his fragilely constructed reality crashing. No answer came.

“One more thing, Doctor.” Jensen continued. “How long does Brylan have to live?”

“I had to speed up the process. I had to produce more and more clones.”

“How long?”

“A month? Maybe a year on the outside. He stopped growing last year.

“We have no further questions for the doctor.” 

Two guards escorted the shaken man to an empty seat, well away from the still sleeping Brylan. Jensen and Jared stood close, foreheads touching. The ordeal was nearly over. They turned to face the main dais, and Jared addressed the Consuls Juris and Legate.

“The genomes stolen from me had only just made it to the creche in New Dallas by the time we got there. All samples have since been destroyed. The children,” Jared’s voice broke. Jensen clutched his hand. “My brothers had a strange and terrible effect on me. I can’t really describe it, but it was like a cancer of the soul. We were forced into this situation against our will, and so were they. We had to kill them because they were slowly killing me. Any attempt to duplicate us would have met with the same failure. We can’t explain why.”

Jensen continued. “All of the testimony delivered today can be supported with the data from the crystals. We honestly don’t know what to plead on our own behalf for the murder of Jared’s cloned brothers. It was truly self-defense, but we have no method to prove that. The only mercy granted us during the past few days was that none of them had reached a level of maturity where they could be awakened. We have no other comfort.”

Pilleggi, unable to hold eye-contact with the two young men, rubbed his hands across the polished surface of the lectern. He struggled to gather his thoughts, and finally decided on the only viable course of action.

“Does this conclude the disclosure of Secernere?” he asked.

“Yes, your Eminence,” they answered.

“The magnitude and scope of these offenses require deliberation. The Prime Leaders will retire to the Basilica Conclave chamber in one hour. Given the horrors endured by the Sentinels and their loved ones, allow us to grant one more mercy. For that intervening hour, they and their friends and family may reunite before we require the presence of the Justicar Psionica in Conclave.”

Jensen and Jared gave Pilleggi watery smiles of appreciation.

“At the conclusion of our deliberations, we will reconvene General Conclave to pass judgment. Guards, escort the accused to holding cells under maximum security. This session is in recess.”

_________________

The many doors of the chamber suddenly opened. The audience stood in solemn silence as the Primes exited the grand chamber. The Captain of the Guard approached Jensen and Jared, the sympathy in his eyes clear even through his galea. “Sirs,” he said gently. “We have secured the Consul Chamber nearby for your privacy. Please follow me.”

Exhausted, drained and weary, the two young men trailed behind their escort, through a concealed door. The luxuriously appointed room contained couches and large comfortable chairs, more than sufficient to house the band of friends and loved ones the Captain had assured them would be joining them shortly. The pair all but collapsed onto a small couch for two and huddled together. Very shortly thereafter, their mothers descended upon them in a whirlwind of tears, laughter, kisses, hugs, admonishments and adorations. Their fathers were seconds behind, then siblings. Their friends managed to wedge into the huddle in shifts. The emotional deluge threatened to overwhelm them, but they held on, accepting the gentle touches and a few kisses. 

When the press of well-wishers finally let them go, they caught their first sight of their mentors since they’d returned. They drew in a sharp breath. All of them looked unspeakably haggard, faces drawn, deep stress lines around their eyes, mouths and their eyes were hollow and glassy. None looked worse than Jeffrey. Jensen and Jared took two stumbling steps toward the man, caught themselves, and drew to attention, giving the man a sharp salute.

Returning the salute, his gruff voice set them at ease. They rushed to him, all sense of propriety gone. They wrapped him in a rib-cracking hug which he returned hungrily. 

“Thought we lost you boys.” The older man’s voice was muffled in the long embrace. When he finally released them, Samantha, Sasha and even Jager took their turns. Finally they turned to Misha, their beloved friend, whose cerulean eyes were welling up. He grabbed hold of them and pulled them in so tightly they feared for their breath. They stood silently, gently rocking. 

They pulled away, wiping their eyes and faces, only then noticing the presence of Justin Hartley lingering back from the crowd. He quietly saluted them, with the biggest and brightest shit-eating grin they had ever seen. The returned the jaunty salute and broke into laughter, the emotional pressure boiling over and out of them in the joyous sound. Once again under control, they faced their leader.

“Sir, we are so sorry,” Jared began to apologize. 

“No,” Jeffrey interrupted him. “No. You did exactly what had to be done. If any one of us had acted in any way other that wasn’t completely natural, it would have tipped off Fayon. He had eyes everywhere. It had to go down this way. You did good.”

“Thank you, Sir,” they both whispered; their faces flush with pleased embarrassment. 

Jensen turned to Justin, a speculative gleam in his eye. “Chad?”

The older adept nodded, smirking back. “Chad.”

“What are you on about?” Sasha queried.

“We had a little help from our paranoid friend,” Jared answered, turning to Justin, who looked fit to burst to finally share the events of the previous day. “And, in order to keep from blowing his cover, we had to artfully omit some things in our testimony today.”

“Well,” Morgan stated flatly. “You three had better start explaining.”

_________________

Justin Hartley hated cloak-and-dagger bullshit, and right now, it seemed he was buried under an avalanche of it. Something massive had gone down in Psi Min, but no one knew what it was. The Justicar had been basically missing in action for days, and every instinct he had told Justin that whatever had happened it was anything but good. He should be flattered that he had earned Morgan’s trust enough to be sent on this little errand. He should, but this twelfth switch in course and/or vehicle to get to the coordinates seemed excessive. He knew a bit about Lindberg, enough to know the man was paranoid to the point he probably needed neuro-treatment. Even for him, this was a bit much.

Senses on high alert, a constant empathic sweep around him, assured him that no one had followed him. He turned one last corner and arrived at the coordinates, but he saw no entrance. The solid rock wall in front of him, rippled once, then twice, and disappeared all together revealing a massive blast door. Justin chuckled to himself. Lindberg really should seek professional help.(I think that would work just as well if he said that to himself.) He slipped in as the door opened, and at the end of a tunnel was the technological lair of the madman in question. He gave a low whistle at the astounding array of technology everywhere he looked. 

“You weren’t followed?” Chad asked, his back still to Justin, eyes focused on the holodisplays in front of him.

“Nope,” Justin answered. “Empathic scans the entire way here.”

“Good,” Chad shot back. “Having an empath come here has advantages.”

“And why precisely am I here?” Justin’s tone conveyed a bit of his annoyance.

“Because you are going to deliver what is probably the most important piece of information the Justicar has ever received.”

Justin rolled his eyes at the melodrama, luckily before Chad spun his chair to face his guest. The strange, shorter man stood and made his way to the large work table in the center of the room. 

“And what, pray tell, is this vital piece of information?”

Chad looked at him appraisingly, but his excitement won out over his caution.

“I have cracked a cypher that encrypted a massive amount of data. Powerful people in the Republic have been up to some things that will shake our government to its core.” He waved his hand over the smooth surface of the table and projection appeared. “A secret organization has been working steadily to create a program that would clone Adepts.”

Justin’s eyes grew wide as his mouth dropped open.

“Specifically, they want to clone Gemini.”

“Wait, that’s not possible. Genetics have never explained psionic manifestations.”

“No, they haven’t. And they still don’t. But if you create ten-thousand copies of an Adept, one will likely have the same powers as the original.”

“But one out of ten-thousands clones? That’s pretty damned inefficient, and a massive increase in population. Not mention that cloning has been banned for over two thousand years.”

“It would be a problem only if you had a moral objection to killing all of the clones that don’t have powers.”

“You can’t be serious!” Justin nearly shouted.

“This data here shows plans for ‘recycling’ the ‘failed’ attempts. Basically, they are prepared to clone Gemini millions upon millions of times, murdering the ‘normal’ clones, and engineering the ‘powered’ clones to be unquestioning soldiers. And yeah, it is every bit as horrifying as you think it is.”

They stood in silence, Justin gaping as he tried to wrap his mind around what he had just heard and seen. A glimmer caught his attention, and suddenly, four flawlessly smooth rectangular pieces of crystal just appeared on the table.

“How did you do that?” both men asked, startled. 

“I didn’t do it!” they both responded.

Chad’s hands flew, the display changing so rapidly that Justin couldn’t begin to follow what was happening. 

“What the hell?!” Chad yelled, his finger jabbing at a meter reading. “Nothing on the sensors! Nothing gets by my sensors. No teleporter energy signatures, hell no energy signatures period.”

They both eyed the chips as though they might suddenly explode.

“Are those memory crystals?” Justin asked.

“Yeah, they are,” Chad sat staring for a few minutes longer and then suddenly grabbed all four of the offending objects. At first, Justin thought he was going to break them. The tech turned one on its end and pushed, but instead of shattering, the table surface gave way,  and about a quarter of the crystal’s length slid into the previously smooth table, and then it lit up. Chad repeated the action with the other three. Once again, his hands flew through the air and the light refracted in the crystals changed from white to red.

“What are you doing?” Justin asked quietly.

“Loading them in isolation mode, so they can’t infect any of my systems and I can get a look at what’s inside of them.”

A few seconds later, Chad gasped. 

“What?” Justin demanded. “What is it?”

“These are the central memory units of four of the cloning labs. It describes everything, in detail. Oh no,” the tech said, his voice becoming agonized. “They have Jared.”

“What?!”

“They kidnapped Jared. Blew up a ship he was on, and transported him out at the last minute,” Chad’s hands moved again. “To a cloaked ship in high orbit. He was immediately put in hibernation. It says here that a second person was teleported to the ship. It was supposed to be Jensen, but was a young female. The transition into hibernation killed her. Her body couldn’t handle the elevated level of stasis.”

Before Justin could say anything, Chad turned to him. “You got anywhere you desperately need to be in the next hour?”

“If you are asking if I can wait around till you get this sorted and ready for the Justicar, then no. I am all yours.”

Chad returned to his manic waving. Justin couldn’t help but be a bit in awe of the man. Thousands of years ago, a group of humans had added mechanical modifications to their bodies, to allow them to interface completely with computers. The movement died out shortly after, but Chad seemed to be achieving the same ends without implants. Justin thought he might finally understand the other man’s obsession with secrecy. 

“This could take a bit,” Chad said, his eyes and hands never ceasing in their movement. “There’s another console over there that you can access all of the information from. You might as well make yourself useful while you wait.”

Truthfully, Justin really had no desire to learn more about the atrocities committed by this cabal, but desire had no part in this. He had a duty to fulfill. The conspirators had at least one of Gemini in their clutches. This just became personal.

_________________

Back in their quiet room, high in the clouds in New Dallas, Jared and Jensen took time to rest and to process. The timing for the rest of the day had to have millisecond precision, so now they waited. This temporary refuge had not only given them shelter and rest, but unexpectedly prepared them for the termination of the final lab. When they had first materialized here, they had forgotten that the room would have sensors. They had bypassed checking in to forestall any digital footprint they might leave behind, but all buildings in the Republic, especially the super-towers, had complex safety systems. In the event of catastrophe, the signals would facilitate rescue and evacuation efforts. Since the onset of the Silicate War, the systems had only gotten more complex and their readings more fastidiously monitored. 

Jensen and Jared silently thanked Chad for the brief time they had worked with him. Deactivation was not an option, so rigging the sensors to give false readings was their only recourse. The first three hours had been tense, waiting for someone to come barreling into the room to investigate. Finally, they relaxed; finished off the massive haul of food they had liberated from a restaurant nearby, and slipped into a deep, uninterrupted sleep for fourteen hours. When they awoke, the temptation to sink into one another, to finally hold and touch and love one another after the unbearably painful separation, almost overwhelmed them. But knowing what came next and what they had to do, neither wanted the joy of their reunion to be sullied by unfinished business.

Dealing with the lab could not have gone more smoothly. They appeared, incapacitated the staff and sent them to Yser. The sensors posed no issue for them now that they had had practice. They let out a breath they hadn’t realized they were holding when they detected the absence of any type of  self-destruct mechanism, which they worried that the cabal would implement. Fortunately, it appeared the conspirators drew the line at murdering millions of New Dallas citizens. Before retrieving the memory crystal, they took some time to investigate the data. What they found somehow surpassed their worst suspicions. 

They had neither the time nor the stomach to read through it all. Hopefully, Chad had parsed all of the data and had a clearer idea of how far this clandestine plan extended. What they sought and found, was confirmation of their next step. Of everything they had done to stop this, the final act would prove by far the most difficult. Just as Jensen was about to shut down the machine, remove the crystal and send it on its way to Chad, a message flashed across the holodisplay. Astonishingly enough, it read: ‘I know you are reading this, so respond.’

Jensen and Jared shared bemused looks, and then Jared touched the image. The next they knew, Chad’s face appeared before them. 

“What the hell?!” Jensen shouted, suddenly terrified they had trusted the wrong person.

“Relax.” the tech responded. “I got your little shipment and reviewed all the data. When I tried to hack into the other labs’ computers, they were all zero signal. This one was the only one with an operating system. I figured you had destroyed the other labs, and this was your last stop. So I hacked the sensors, and when any anomaly appeared, I would know you two were there. Oh, nice work on the false sensor reads, by the way. I didn’t have to do anything to help you out at all.”

“Uh, thanks?” Jared stared back.

“So, here’s the deal. Everyone thinks you two are dead. Right now, the Justicar is sequestered in the Basilica until after the General Conclave this afternoon. It’s set to start in six hours from now. That’s when they will announce your deaths to the worlds.”

Both Sentinels scrubbed their hands over their faces in perfect synchronicity. 

“Yeah, you’ve got too much to do, so put the guilt aside.”

“So you have a plan?” Jared asked.

“Yep.” A display of the floor plan of the senate chamber appeared. “For General Conclave the chamber will be wide open to accommodate all of the people attending.” What had appeared to be walls creating countless rooms around the central circle of the great chamber disappeared, reconfiguring the building into a massive room. 

“How many people are going to be there?” Jensen asked incredulously.

“About 20,000. All the elected representatives of the Republic government will be in attendance As will their Aides. All appointed leaders will be there with their aides. The press. And for this one, a large number of VIPs. All of squadron A will be there. As will their families.

When Jensen and Jared visibly paled, Chad pushed on. “I told you, no time for guilt. I haven’t been on the ground during this, but its hit everyone hard, and I can guarantee that when you reveal what has been going on and why you two went radio silent, no one is going to be mad. Hell, just the relief to see you two alive and kicking will make pretty much everyone ecstatic. So, back to the plan.

“After the meeting is in session, I figure about thirty minutes to an hour in, you two plant yourselves here.” A red dot flashed outside of one of the huge entrance doors to the auditorium. “However it is you get there; I don’t care or want to know. I’ve worked out a signal that I will send you that gives me enough time so I can disable sensors, create a little diversion, and get everything set.

“This has to happen today, at that meeting.”

“Why?” Jared asked.

“Because I have the names of everyone who ran this secret organization. We have to strike quickly and unexpectedly, or they will go to ground. And the ones that are most likely to slip away will be in that room in six hours.”

_________________

“No one thought to ask about all that data you used during the tribunal,” Jager asked thoughtfully. 

“Nope,” Jensen answered, well pleased. “Chad piped it in, all parsed out. Honestly, I don’t think even he has made it all the way through those crystals. I can say for certain, I really don’t wanna know anymore about this holocaust than I already do.”

Jared hummed his agreement. 

“So, as far as all of you are concerned, what you’ve just told me and what you submitted during tribunal,” Morgan began gravely, “That’s the sum total of what you know about this Tectractys business?”

“Yes Sir,” Jared answered. “We have a theory or two, but none of it is anywhere close to being provable.”

“The mysterious Pythagoras,” Misha filled in the blanks.

“If he really does exist,” Jensen went on to explain, “I have no doubt Chad will suss him out through all of that data.”

Morgan stared off into the distance, as if trying to wrestle with some mental demon. His expression cleared abruptly as the Captain of the Guard entered. 

“Justicar,” he said formally. “We require your presence.”

“Very well,” the older man said. He turned to his two protégées, a hand placed gently on each of their necks. “I’m proud of you two. Couldn’t be prouder. And if either of you leave this room while I’m gone, I am going to hunt you down, shoot you both with stunners, and shackle you to the walls of your quarters at the Academy.”

They beamed back at him, laughing through the tears his praise had evoked. Morgan turned to follow out the guard, speaking to the Captain. “Please see to it that food and drink is brought to them. Anything they require.”

“Yes, Sir,” the blue-garbed soldier replied. “It will be my honor, Sir.” 


	16. Chapter 16

_I find that humanity studies focus on the extremes, but we spend our lives trying to find the balance in between  Our heroes rise in the presence of villains. The more diabolical the villain, the greater the hero. We see this clearly in the military histories. But I have to wonder; were our protagonists and antagonists so different from us? From each other? Or were they simply seeking to find that center and missed?_

_— Interview with Praetor Primus Holis Andres, as entrusted to Pontifex Bello Kurt Fuller in 3155 AT_

 

In the end, it took the Primes only slightly more than five hours to deliberate. When Jensen, Jared and their entourage were escorted from the council chamber to the main auditorium, they found the vast room to be every bit as crowded as before. The innermost circles had been somewhat reconfigured: the main dais that before had held only the Consuls Juris and Legate had been expanded to accommodate all of the Prime Leaders, but all of the seats were still empty. The accused had been brought from their cells back to the positions that they had before. Misha took his position as Vox Veritas, and Jared and Jensen were shown to two chairs, directly across from the dais. The rest of the group was shown to seats moved slightly farther back from the inner ring. 

The Captain of the Guard signaled for all present to rise as the Primes entered. Even though they knew firsthand the irrefutable evidence they had presented, Jensen and Jared had a severe case of nerves. Fayon was by far the most dangerous man they could cross, known for ruthlessness and an uncanny ability to evade anything that might tarnish his career and ambitions. They could not escape the fear that somehow the man would manage to slip out of this as well.

The Primes filed in. The Consul Juris took the center seat and remained standing as the others sat. With a gesture from him, the crowd also took their seats. He tapped his knuckles on the surface of the glossy wood table that had replaced the smaller lectern, staring down at the scroll in front of him. After an achingly long moment, he cleared his throat and began to speak.

“Never in the history of this Republic have more serious charges, both in scope and severity, been arraigned against so many citizens. The magnitude of this tribunal is only increased by the positions of power and trust held by so many of the accused. The complexities of each charge in relation to each person accused will likely pollute our judicial system for some time to come. 

“This body will pass judgment against all the accused on the following charges: violation of the Tamnagar Accords, kidnapping, conspiracy, high treason, murder and attempted murder. In this case, given the extremity of the charges, the Prime Leaders have unanimously voted that complicity with the act equates to execution of the act. The lesser charges will be prosecuted and judged by other courts, without the presence of those so accused.

“To the charge of violation of Articles one through eighty-seven inclusive of the Tamnagar Accords, the Prime Leaders of the Republic pronounce you guilty as charged. To the charge of kidnapping of a Republican Officer, the Prime Leaders find you all guilty as charged. To the charge of conspiracy against the Republic, the Prime Leaders find you guilty as charged. To the charge of attempted murder, the Prime Leaders find you guilty as charged. To the charge of high treason against the Republic and her citizens, the Prime Leaders find you guilty as charged. To the charge of murder, the Prime Leaders of the Republic find you all guilty of the premeditated murder of 91,974 citizens of the Republic.”

Not a single word was uttered, not a whisper in the deathly quiet room. The faces of the accused had gone pale and slack. Even Fayon’s normally placid countenance had been morphed into a mask of shock and fear.

As Pilleggi sat, Consul Executus Tomis Ryselle stood. 

“Words are utterly incapable of communicating the horror and disgust this esteemed body feels toward the crimes committed by the convicted. Not once since the founding of this great Republic 3,131 years ago have we seen such heinous and despicable acts. When confronted with the vile necessity to levy punishment upon the convicted, all of us were forcibly reminded that no criminal has been executed in this Republic in 391 years and, in chilling coincidence, those executions followed the murderous rampage of the ignorant against innocents that we now know as Adepts. 

“We have apparently, grown very little in the intervening years. This holocaust waged by you all is a toxic stain, a malignancy upon every last solitary principle that undergirds our society. I speak for every Prime Leader before you when I say we would rather lose the war tomorrow; have our entire species cease to exist than to become what you, the convicted, would have made us all into. As the primitive surgeons of old would cut out the cancerous growth that would destroy the body, so we must deal with you. You will find no mercy. You will find no appeal. The Prime Leaders have spoken with one voice, and we will not be moved. 

“It is with shattered spirits that we pronounce judgment and justice upon your fates. In seven days time, from this moment as marked by the Sergeant-at-Arms, all of the herein convicted will be put to death by firing squad. You will be interred into the soil of the worlds of your births without marker or monument. In all official accountings of your lives and legacies, your names will be appended with the phrase ‘traitor and murderer of thousands.’

“Guards! Remove them from our sight.”

Soft whimpers and sobs of the condemned as they left the great chamber were the only sounds heard. The booming of the heavy wooden doors closing behind them startled the remaining audience, but no one spoke. 

Ryselle stared down at his spread fingers upon the table surface, and spoke without looking up. “We, the citizens of the great Republic are terribly diminished by the crimes of our peers. Without the extraordinary interdiction of two courageous young men, the toll would have been inestimably greater. Millions upon millions of innocents would have been created and destroyed without prejudice to attain a corrupt and evil goal dressed in the garb of noble purpose. Never forget what you have seen this day. Never forget the horror you have suffered at the merest retelling of these deeds. Never forget that without vigilance and honor, monsters will walk among us.”

With that quiet declaration, he slowly retook his seat. The Primes sat motionless for at least a full minute before Praetor Primus Hollis stood to address the assembly.

“We take up the honored Consul Executus’ charge. I find that contrast brings extremes into sharp relief, lodging them firmly in the mind and heart. Let us then embrace the contrast. None of us gathered here today, could possibly foresee the outcome of this General Conclave. Well, perhaps none of us but two.” Andres aimed a soft smile at the seated Sentinels. 

“The honored Pontifex Maximus, in words of greater pertinence than he could have imagined at the time, said to us all mere hours ago ‘Like the ancients, two extraordinary figures rose up to shoulder burdens too great for their peers. To lead all of us from the shadow of destruction. To face down seemingly insurmountable odds and to give hope to the hopeless.’ He had the right of it.

“The original purpose of this Conclave was to bestow a posthumous honor on heroes taken from us too soon. It is the intent of the Primes at this final moment to restore glory to its rightful place above depravity. To exalt hope above despair. Those who we had mourned have returned to us alive. They arose from the black spectre of disaster with magnificent and terrible purpose. Again, they have saved us all. 

“The Prime Leaders of the great Republic do hereby amend our earlier proclamation with tremendous pleasure, for we may now honor the living instead of the dead. It is thus proposed that Sentinels of the Republic, Centurions Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki, be appointed as Archons of the Republic.

“What say you, fellow Primes?”

With one booming voice, all thirteen prime leaders cried out “Aye!”

Thunderous applause broke out, the emotional turmoil of the long day finally given expression. As the ovation continued, Hollis motioned for Jensen and Jared to approach the dais. Two guards from both sides of the Primes moved forward, holding large boxes of extremely fine and intricate wooden inlay. The Justicar Psionica rose with dignity from his seat and stepped down onto the floor in front of his charges. As they waited for the last of the applause to fade away, Morgan’s dimpled smile, wrinkling the corners of his eyes, spoke of a fondness and regard that nearly brought the two young men to tears. As if sensing their emotional struggle, the older man gave them a playful wink that only they could see. 

At his command, the guards opened the boxes revealing matching bejeweled collars of office. The enormous chains consisted of linked, jeweled pendants, each an enormous glimmering blue diamond set in platinum. Twenty-four of the five centimeter squares formed the chain of the collar, and from it hung another square pendant, some ten centimeters squared, a jeweled representation of the Seal of the Republic, the great Phoenix cut from one solid, fiery ruby, embedded in a solid square blue diamond. 

The lights of the great chamber danced off the countless facets of the enormous stones. Neither Jensen nor Jared had seen anything like them, even in the Capital’s museums. Morgan reached into the first box, lifting the collar from its velvet bed. The vast chain unfolded, pulled by the weight of the great pendant. Jensen lowered his head as his Commander and mentor lowered the necklace upon his shoulders. It sat wide across his shoulders, hanging in the back between his shoulder blades, and the phoenix pendant rested precisely in the middle of his chest. Morgan repeated the gesture, laying the second matching collar upon Jared’s tall frame.  He stood back for a moment, admiring the two young men.

Then he turned to face the Primes and said in a loud, clear voice. “Citizens and servants of the Republic, I present to you, your Archons.”

_________________

Tomis offered, with a ferocious intensity, rooms in the Residence for all of group. Partly to assuage his guilt, and partly to give a needed and well-deserved treat to those who had never been to the Residence, but mostly out of the type of convenience that becomes desperately attractive when exhausted. The band followed the Consul to a series of aircars waiting in a private and heavily guarded porte cochere. The journey to their opulent lodgings passed in a seeming instant. The blur of the Capital City’s nighttime luminescence joltingly became the solid, brightly lit walls of the ConEx’s personal docking bay. 

The Consul’s guards, in ubiquitous Republic blue, led them into the most intimate chamber of the heart of power. Jensen and Jared, their mothers on their arms, their fathers behind them beaming in pride, led the procession. The few service men and women they passed all ogled them the moment their eyes took in the gleaming gray armor and the awe-inspiring collars. The two young men returned a fair number of formal salutes from people of similar rank to the highest ranks in the military. 

Family and friends entered the honored guest rooms of the Residence in a state of profound awe. Ryselle gave an impromptu tour, providing historical commentary on the innumerable priceless artifacts of human history displayed throughout. Having seen it already, the two young men bonelessly flopped onto a massive, overly cushioned sofa that seemed to partially devour them in their sprawl. The head of the ConEx’s staff informed them that dinner would be served in half an hour. They tried to force from their minds the last meal they ate here. The overt attentiveness of the staff in general told them they were not alone in that unpleasant remembrance. 

Their friends, in pairs, floated in from their freshly assigned rooms to the main parlor to touch them and to sit near them. It looked to Jensen and Jared as though it was some choreographed dance, performed in shifts. Misha and Jeffrey sat on the identical sofa facing their present perch. They both still looked far too wan for the boys’ taste, but considerably better than when they first laid eyes on them in the council chamber. 

“You might be more comfortable in something less metallic,” Samantha teased them, as she sat on one arm of the sofa, her hand extending along the back behind Jared. One finger tapped his armor in a soft ping. Both looked longingly down at their new and rather spectacular baubles. 

Jensen’s head flopped back against the cushions. “Tired and the collar would look silly on undress fatigues.”

That, somehow, immediately caught the attention of their mothers. Donna looked particularly horrified. “Oh you aren’t going to have dinner with the Consul in your casual clothes?” She looked as though the mere thought bordered on sacrilege. 

“We don’t have our dress uniforms here.” Jared whined. It struck both of them at the same moment how stupid that sounded. Suddenly, neatly folded black uniforms materialized across their sprawling legs. 

“Great, we got ‘em,” Jensen mumbled. “Now we gotta go change. Maybe we could.. . “

A chorus of vehement “Nos!” disabused them of the notion of putting on their dress mess by any means other than the traditional way. The rest of their friends and mentors had been in full dress all day. Jensen and Jared decided not to mention their particular affinity for their armors’ capes. They groaned piteously and forced themselves up from the obscenely comfortable cushions and trudged off to their assigned quarters. 

Jensen yelled over his shoulder “We’re keeping the necklaces on!”

“You should at least take em off to change!” Jager shot back. 

Sam broke a momentary lull in the conversation. “I still don’t quite believe they’re here.”

Jeffrey murmured in agreement, and Sheri, who had been standing near the recently vacated sofa, walked forward and patted Sam’s hand. 

“I doubt we will ever get used to these eleventh hour reversals they seem so gifted at pulling out,” Misha offered.

“By my watch, it was after midnight,” Loretta added dryly. 

“I trust that everyone here understands why they did what they did? And that it was the exactly correct course of action?” Jeffrey said, his tone regaining something of the high commander of all Adepts.

“I understand it.” his dear, old friend replied. “But no one can make me like it.”

The subjects of their discussion returned, bedecked in their sharp, black dress uniforms, the filet of the Sentinels between their brows, and the massive collars still around their necks. The younger members of their audience responded with a chorus of cat-calls, while the elders nodded approvingly. The two men blushed prettily at the praise, and then abruptly, their expressions turned to alarm.

“Where’s Brylan?” they both demanded.

Jeffrey sat up suddenly. “I don’t know.”

Jensen and Jared raced across the parlor, seizing upon the holoconsole. They entered the commands to locate the child and grew very still when the answer appeared on the holo.

“He’s in solitary confinement,” Jensen said through gritted teeth. “In the same facility they are holding the prisoners.”

Jared barked testily at the console until a woman’s face appeared. She looked to be middle-aged, wearing the uniform of the prison guard. 

“You have Brylan McNally in your custody?” Jared demanded.

“Who are…” her hostile retort broke off in mid-breath as the faces of the men she addressed registered. “Yes, Sirs. We have the boy here.”

“Who is responsible for locking a child in a solitary cell?”

“The order is by the Adjutant Consul Juris,” the guard nervously responded. “It was deemed the only safe way to contain the boy’s unusual abilities.”

Both young men shot angry looks at Jeffrey and Tomis. Jensen, exerting some control over his ire before he said something to these men he would later regret, asked with considerable strain, “Have our ID codes been updated?”

The two older men exchanged glances, but Tomis answered. “Yes, they were updated before we reconvened General Conclave.”

Jensen and Jared turned their focus back to the guard, who no doubt would have preferred the concentrated power of their glares aimed elsewhere. “Release the boy and have him brought directly to us,” Jared ordered, as Jensen entered his ID code. The guard’s eye shot down at the authorization and assured them both that Brylan was on his way to them. Jensen offered assurances that the escort would be perfectly safe and nothing untoward would occur.

When the console flickered off, they turned to face a gallery of faces frozen in shock.

“Justicar Morgan and Consul Executus Ryselle,” Jared began with cold formality. “We hereby request that Brylan McNally be remanded, permanently into our custody.”

Jeffrey stood and walked toward them, fully cognizant that given their new authority, such a request was a gesture of respect. They required no one’s permission.

“You have considered the very difficult logistics of this?” the older man asked gently.

“Sir,” Jensen answered. “We dragged that boy into this mess and assured him that he would be alright, safe and cared for if he told the truth. He just spent the last nine hours in a cell that has historically only been used for the worst criminals. Our honor has been damaged in this.”

Jared picked up where his counterpart left off. “He is an Adept. If we believe in the truth and rightness of anything we did today, we have to accept that. He will come with us back to the Academy. We will work with him to help undo the damage and conditioning of that madman. If he lives for another month or two hundred years, he deserves no less than any one of us.”

The vehemence of their stand took Jeffrey aback. Before he could respond, Samantha walked up behind him. 

“Of course, he is welcome at the Academy,” she said, her voice warm and fond. “There is no better place for him. We will all work with him. You two obviously have formed some sort of bond with the boy, so I can think of no better mentors to help him through such a horrifying ordeal.”

At that moment, the head of the staff entered to announce that dinner was ready. Everyone watched Jensen and Jared for a cue.

“You go on ahead. We are going to wait for Brylan,” Jensen said. 

“Then we all wait.” Tomis stated, nodding to the staffer who promptly exited to convey the news to the kitchen.

The Archons paced, like caged tigers as they waited. Jager asked, “You said you could assure that nothing would happen to the escort. How can you keep the child from tampering with his guards?”

“We are assuring him right now,” Jensen answered. “And monitoring him. He’s frightened. He’s hungry. He’s hurting. But he’s not doing anything to anyone around him.”

This unexpected report chilled the atmosphere of the room considerably.

“Jensen, Jared,” Tomis began. “I am so very sorry that this happened. I have no excuse for forgetting the boy. None of us do.”

The two young men nodded tensely and resumed pacing. Fortunately, not even twenty minutes after they had placed the call to the prison, the ConEx guard knocked on the door. Flanked as he was by the towering, severely uniformed guard, Brylan looked piteously tiny. He kept his head down, his hands tugging on the hem of his shirt. 

“Brylan!” the Archons cried out. At their cry, the boy’s head shot up, as if expecting rebuke. What he got instead were two tall men on their knees, alternately hugging him and inspecting him for any signs of harm.

“We are so sorry,” Jared apologized. “This won’t happen again, Okay? You’re going to come with us, me and Jensen, back to the Academy. We’re gonna take care of you now.”

“Really?” Impossibly huge brown eyes searched their faces.

“Absolutely,” Jensen confirmed. 

Samantha bent down to speak to the boy. “Brylan, my name’s Samantha. Do you know what the Academy Psionica is?”

“No, ma’am.”

“It’s a special school where people like you and me and Jensen and Jared go to learn how to use our abilities to help people. I run the school. We have a lot of young people there just about your age.”

“And you would let me go there, too?”

“Brylan, there is nothing I would like more than for you to join us there. But I have to warn you. With Jensen and Jared looking out for you, you will probably be quite the celebrity.” She smiled warmly at him. 

“I would like that, I think,” he answered her. 

“I am very happy to hear you say that. We are all about to go eat some dinner. Would you like to join us?”

One look at those puppyish eyes, and Samantha wondered if the boy needed empathy at all to get people to do anything in the worlds for him. After he had nodded, she looked to her two older boys. 

“Why don’t you two take Brylan here and help him get freshened up. See if you can conjure up a first year uniform for him while you are at it.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Even with the honors, accolades and authority heaped on them, the two young men returned to being lowly cadets in her presence. It warmed them to know that in this, things would likely never change.

_________________

The following day became mired, and then completely lost, in meetings. Fortunately, Jensen and Jared were allowed to sleep in, a luxury no doubt rabidly defended by Sam, Loretta and their mothers. Brylan, still skittish after his ordeal, had settled in more easily than either had hoped for. They attributed his pliability to exhaustion. When the boy had finally fallen asleep on the sofa, ensconced between his two benefactors, Jared gently lifted him and carried him to a bedroom connected to their own. The boy slept all through the night and well into the morning. 

The first meeting of the day concerned their new charge. Tomis, Jeffrey, Samantha and their three mentors sat down to try and hammer out any of the more difficult challenges presented by the child. 

“We are confident we can teach any level three or higher empath how to defend against his ability to alter the minds of others,” Jensen began. “The first challenge, we think, will be working with Bry to help him understand why that kind of tampering must never be done. I don’t think he was bound to McNally by any deep parental bond. Our impression is that he was basically the only person the boy had ever spent any time with. Hopefully, it will be easier to sever the ties to a caregiver than to a father figure.”

“The foremost concern in my mind is time,” Samantha added. “How long does the boy have? McNally made it sound like he could die at any moment.”

Jared regarded her thoughtfully for a moment. “Our intent is to remove the metabolic damage caused by McNally’s hasty and wasteful cloning technique. We are confident that the boy can grow and develop at a rate consistent with his peers and live a long and productive life.”

“And you are both willing to be legally and morally responsible for him until he reaches his majority? In what? Ten years?” Ryselle asked them.

“Yes,” Jensen answered simply. “He deserves no less. Fortunately, with those liquid brown eyes, he has our families quite handily wrapped around his little finger. We will certainly not alone in our efforts to care for him.”

Jeffrey watched them with a cautious sense of pride. “That actually brings us to another rather more difficult matter,” he intoned. “Your status with the Academy and Psi Min.”

The two young men could not quite contain their surprise at this subject. They waited for their Commander to continue. 

“You now possess a rank that is in effect superior to any individual in the Republic. Granted the Primes can and will keep you both accountable, but that is not my concern. I have seen nothing to warrant worry on that front. You have superlative records, and are, in my opinion, models of integrity. 

“The question at hand though, boils down to keeping our two highest ranking citizens in a program designed to train Adepts for future service. If you were both of age, I would have no qualms simply releasing you to official service. I am very uncomfortable with setting any precedent by which an Adept that had not reached majority could be pressed into active service.”

“We have a potential solution to that,” Jared added. “In the few remaining weeks of this term, we want to finish the ExTac course. It will be hard for all of us, given what happened, but it’s too important to just abandon.”

“Agreed,” Morgan confirmed.

“Over the break, we want to take Brylan with us to Ouray.” Jensen continued. “He needs that kind of familial anchor, and I can’t think of any better family, or place, than the village. Also, giving Loretta someone to dote unashamedly on poses a distinct tactical advantage.”

A few chuckles around the table confirmed his assessment. Jared tapped the table in a quick tattoo. “Starting next term, we think the present ExTac group could begin training other capable cadets in the technique, preferably those who are one to two terms from graduation. I think it would be beneficial that we also begin training active duty Adepts in the defense as well. Our hope is that we can begin a geometric progression. Quel’Alta would be an ideal location to begin that training. We also suggest utilizing Centurion Harris and the rest of A Squadron to begin working with pilots, both Adept and non-Adept. Hopefully, by the end of that term we could have two to three full squads capable of executing the defense.”

Jeffrey looked pleased. “I was going to suggest something along those lines.” It somewhat amused Jensen and Jared that the commander of all Adepts would “suggest” anything. 

“We also want to continue working with Dr. Speight. We feel that even though our sessions did not create a fully functioning absorptive deflector, the new model was a good investment of time. But beyond that, we obviously need to work with him on a few new developments.”

Samantha cocked an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Jensen took a deep breath, somewhat nervous at broaching this topic for the first time. “We have to assume that no one has brought up this new means of travel that Jared and I seem to possess out of politeness. The truth is, we don’t really understand it, and it’s damned tricky to explain.”

He reached for a cloth napkin setting in front of him, one of the few remnants of the fine breakfast they had all consumed immediately before getting down to business.

“Think of this napkin as four-dimensional space time. It’s a bad model, I know, but bear with me. Let’s say this corner of the napkin is where Jared and I are presently, and this opposite corner is where we need to be. We can phenoptically trace the string through 4D space and find the one that is tied to this destination corner. Once we’ve done that, all we have to do is ‘pull’ that string.” He drew the opposing corners together until they were touching. “We cross over if you will, to the destination and release the string.” The napkin returned to its flat, unfolded form. “Distances don’t seem to factor at all in this, at least in terms of the power needed to make the fold. The only trick is finding the right string, and it’s not nearly as difficult as we thought it might be.”

Five sets of wide eyes stared back at them. Ryselle found his voice first.

“You are saying that you can move to any point in the universe instantly?”

“Theoretically, yes. We haven’t tried it that far, but even the greatest distances within the Republic were no problem,” Jared answered him. 

“And you want to work with Speight to create a machine that can do this?” Jager asked.

“No, at least not initially. I doubt that a machine can be built that can do the same thing. Maybe in time, but certainly not now. We want to better understand this, at least the physics of it. Also, we want to see if he has or can build any kind of sensor that might give us some insight into the effect this has on space.

“Right now, as we see it, we have two potentially revolutionary skills on hand that if we could teach to other Adepts would basically change everything. But both skills are built on two lesser skills: the ability to see phenoptically and to link with other Adepts. Both are critically important, and we need to start training people how to do them. Once we get the phenoptic part down, it’s easier to move to the next steps, which we view as first, linking with other Adepts, then the absorptive deflector, the defensive maneuver and now folding space.

“In all likelihood those latter skills will sort themselves according to the Adepts’ natural abilities, but the first two, we have strong evidence that any Adept can learn them.”

“The implications of all of this are overwhelming,” Sasha stated. “You were able to fold-space and transport a dozen or more people all the way across the Republic. Is there a limit on what you can move like that?”

“Not that we have found. It really doesn’t have anything to do with mass or size. One of the first tests we would like to try is to move a shuttle from one planet to another like this, and then, if all goes well, a full fighter-carrier,” Jensen answered.

“You are saying that it might be possible to train Adepts to deliver a complete space fighting force to any location instantly?” Ryselle’s wide eyes devoured the idea hungrily.

“Theoretically, we think we could train Adepts to move fleets. And not just military, but colony ships, supply ships or rescue ships.”

“The potential is astounding,” Jeffrey granted. “But the potential for abuse is equally staggering.”

“And that is why we only bring this up now,” Jensen explained. “The nightmare scenario of an Adept unwittingly delivering a high-yield explosive device to a population center had crossed our minds. We weren’t going to openly discuss this new ability, and even when questioned, weren’t going to be very forthcoming. Until the whole Archon thing happened.”

Jared continued. “Are we correct in thinking that no one could force us to use these abilities by issuing an order?”

“That is mostly correct,” Ryselle explained. “Technically, a unanimous decree of the Primes would override your authority. That’s the only official method I know of.”

“That is the only contingency we are concerned with. We can’t fully prepare for anyone who would use coercion,” Jensen offered. “But we could adequately deal with that, we think. It’s an official order that would pose the biggest problem. Honestly, we think it will be some years before we can fully train these psionic navigators, and that gives us some time to think around these kinds of issues well in advance. What is pressing right now is the enormous amount of work we have in front of us. All of us.”

“You have the full cooperation of the Executus,” Ryselle offered. “I will assume that the things we have discussed here are to be classified at the highest level. However, if you require any resource, we will provide it.”

Jeffrey smiled wryly at the two young men who now were technically not his charges, but damn the rank, they were still his boys. “Then we had best begin.”

_________________

To Jensen’s and Jared’s dismay, the next item of business involved being brow-beaten by their colleagues and deposited in the lair of Ryselle’s “tailor”, one Madam Edina. No last name. It took less than one second to realize that Madam Edina was some twisted combination of artiste, genius and raving lunatic. In the most charmingly and fashionable way, of course. Given that over three-thousand years had passed since the last Archons, no uniform or insignia existed to denote the office. Other than the massive jeweled collars, which all present had assured them, quite vociferously, could not be worn constantly. 

The two men made the egregious mistake of mentioning maybe some slight alterations to their existing undress uniforms, or utilities, would do in the presence of Madam Edina. She communicated her outrage with volume, flair, drama and possibly choreography. Her flittering struck them as far too precise to not have been rehearsed. Many, many times. 

“I will strip you both naked and paint you blue before I let you parade around in those rags!”

Her assistants seemed rather taken with this alternative plan, but schooled their features into masks of quiet disapproval whenever their mistress might possibly see them.

The negotiations thereafter were brief. The only concession she made to the boys was the necessity of all new garb to be in the traditional Psi Min black. “It is elegant! It is commanding! It is classic!” she exclaimed scattering an array of minions in her orbit to fetch for her the finest ebon fabrics in Haus Edina. 

From that point forward, Jensen and Jared simply stood silent and still until she moved them. When the unprecedented honor of becoming the Archons of the Republic fell upon them, they had never imagined their first task would be to play living mannequins to a pint-sized terror with blue-black hair in a severe square cut, eye makeup that could only be described as artistic, and a deep gray suit of a cut so severe as to rival the one upon her head. 

Jared made the mistake of asking if she would be making the dress and undress uniforms. 

“I will be making all of the uniforms!” She flourished at them. “From casual to semi-formal to formal to ultra-formal and all stops in between!”

“Ma’am,” Jensen began timidly, her side-eyed glare at his slip in protocol alerting him to his faux paus. “Madam Edina?”

“Yes, my darling?!”

“How many uniforms exactly are we going to have?”

“Who can say? As many as are needed!”

Jensen and Jared thought she could damn well say. They hoped she included a scroll with instructions for what should be worn where. Madam Edina’s hands flew the entire time, from sketches that disappeared in minions’ hands, to handling fabrics, to handling them. She alternately draped smart fabrics over them, or posed them for scans in to her workshop computer. A jewel-smith appeared from origins unknown and wisely submitted immediately to Madam Edina’s every whim. The man was clearly a veteran. The flurry of activity left Jensen and Jared so utterly confused they finally abandoned trying to figure out what exactly their hostess was doing. 

They began to understand Ryselle’s preference for Madam Edina when they put on the first finished uniforms. Their regular utilities existed solely to live up to their name. In this instance, the multi-pocketed pants that didn’t particularly look good on anyone had been replaced with finely tailored trousers of a much finer but no less weighty material. The legs tapered down in a razor sharp crease until they broke slightly over their newly acquired sueded boots. Along the outer seams of both legs, Republican Royal Blue made an appearance in piping. Before they could object to the loss of all the pockets, Madam Edina demonstrated how these had the same number, but cleverly hidden along seams. Jared made a ribald comment on the pants’ effect on Jensen’s posterior, which, naturally, provoked his love to wiggle the same for his viewing audience. He ceased immediately when he realized said audience included more than his mate. 

“Look at that!”Jared exclaimed. “The uniform still looks amazing when you turn that particular shade of red.”

Muttered epithets about sasquatches and their inherent sartorial challenges followed. But both of them had to admit the new look commanded far more attention and respect than the old utilities. The jacket, cut to their waists, and made of the same fabric as the trousers, had one unexpected feature. A yolk, front and back, inset in a black cloth of a completely different texture, was outlined in the blue piping and in effect, mirrored the way their collars of office sat upon their shoulders. The zip fastener on the front bisected a phoenix seal embroidered in black silken thread that lay precisely where the jeweled version of their collars sat. Near the cap of the square cut shoulders smaller seals appeared, but the back featured a larger single square in the middle. Madam Edina must have been feeling generous for she allowed them to choose between black and royal blue fitted undershirts to wear with these, either color was also adorned with seals embroidered in the matching color of the shirt. As they admired themselves in the mirrors, the jewel-smith returned, clutching two small, fine wooden boxes. Within each, the boys found small jeweled versions of the massive seal from the collars, one to be pinned to the mandarin collars of most of their uniforms, and then two more of comparable size but of a configuration they had never seen.

“Those, my darlings,” Madam Edina enthused, taking pity on their wretchedly uncultured souls, “are called cufflinks! One cannot rise to such lofty heights as you have without cufflinks, darlings.” As she flitted away, Jensen and Jared briefly considered informing her that they had, in fact, risen to exactly those heights without the aid or even the knowledge of the damned cufflinks. 

By the time she dismissed them, they had bags filled with exquisitely tailored clothing for basically any and every possible occasion known to man. Madam Edina had gone so far as to provide them with sketches of the “required” alterations to their armor, and the vitally important acquisition of ceremonial armor, which of course, she had a sketch of as well. At least both sets still had capes, the pair mumbled silently, as they gathered the mass of bags around them. 

It was perhaps a trifle vindictive for them to fold-space to leave Haus Edina, but they smirked anyway at the startled little squeak she gave as they and all her creations literally disappeared from her store. 


	17. Chapter 17

_Blood and destruction shall be so in use_

_And dreadful objects so familiar_

_That mothers shall but smile when they behold_

_Their infants quarter'd with the hands of war;_

_All pity choked with custom of fell deeds:_

_And Caesar's spirit, ranging for revenge,_

_With Ate by his side come hot from hell,_

_Shall in these confines with a monarch's voice_

_Cry 'Havoc,' and let slip the dogs of war;_

__

_–Julius Caesar by William Shakespeare_

 

They buried Alona on a Tuesday. 

A solemn procession in long, black coats walked slowly along the top of the foggy moor. The winter had released most of Lyrea, but it clung to New Edinburgh with frigid fingers. The breeze from the ocean sent the stygian cloth of their garb flapping like the wings of a murder of crows. 

This part of the ceremony came about unexpectedly. Like the two lost pilots’ families, the Tals had resigned themselves to a simple memorial, the body of their daughter assumed to have been destroyed in the explosion on Tanae. However, Chad stumbled upon the location of the stasis chamber that held her, jettisoned from the ship immediately before it escaped with Jared, the small silver box in eternal orbit high above the planet. Now, they could return her to the land of her family and ancestors.

Ashes to ashes.

Jensen and Jared pondered the enigmatic hold that land had upon humans. The ancients had called their soil and their planet by the same name. Even now, worlds away from the ancestral home, something resonated deep within; a deep chime of rightness, that when we had no further need of our bodies, we gave it back to the land that nourished it. The Archons felt some slight primordial comfort through this act, in the middle of the crushing tragedy of her grossly premature death. 

The cold mist fought valiantly against the sun, refusing to give up ground. The chill dreariness of the morning suited the occasion perfectly. The Padaleckis, the Ackles, the Tals, the officers and friends that had all loved her best stood among the heather which carpeted the cemetery where her father’s father’s fathers lay eternal. The Praetor Primus, moved by the pleas of Jensen and Jared, had authorized that the cadet would be buried with full military honors. Jeffrey had been so touched by their petition that he decided to incorporate it into the eulogy.

“Too often, I have heard the word ‘senseless’ tossed about regarding Alona’s passing. No, as it was so forcefully pointed out to me, no sacrifice is ‘senseless.’ And her’s was a sacrifice of the highest order. Had any one event in the chain that led from that Canyon to the Conclave been different, millions of innocents might have died. Senselessly. Did she choose the sacrifice? No. But for all who knew her, given the alternative, she would no doubt have chosen exactly this. Such was her strength of character, her compassion and her conviction. We will remember her, now and forever, as our dear friend, our beloved comrade. The worlds will remember her for paying the highest possible price to save untold legions, and the soul of humanity itself.”

The casket on its cart hovered silently by, draped in the Republican flag, the Phoenix crest proud in the center. The honor guard walked forward and removed the flag, folding it with precision to give to the Tals. The cart split in half, the anti-grav field slowly lowering its precious cargo into the soil of Lyrea, a glimmering crest matching the one on the flag embedded in the casket’s smooth surface. 

Brylan, in his first-year dress uniform, stood silently between his benefactors, watching everything with sharp eyes. Jensen and Jared had explained that men who worked with McNally had caused Alona’s death. They danced around the boy’s question as to whether things he had done for the deranged man had killed the young woman. In truth, Brylan had tampered with Cindy’s mind, and the Adjutant Justicar had become the cabal’s line of information from Psi Min. She had accessed Jeffrey’s computer and sent the flight plans for all of A Squadron’s drills to the conspirators. She had no idea of her unwilling complicity. Everyone involved decided it would be best to preserve her ignorance. Jensen and Jared wanted to teach Bry that the things McNally forced him to do were forbidden and immoral. They chose to find a different object lesson. One that had less chance of scarring the child further. 

One by one those gathered walked past the open grave, looked down at the casket, and grabbed a handful of dirt to drop upon its gleaming surface. Brylan seemed confused by the ritual, but followed suit. Raidon stood the longest, a fistful of dirt clenched in his hand. So many possibilities he had hoped for ended. In time, he would move on, but he would never forget. She deserved at least that from him. Nazomi took her customary place beside him, scattering the nearly black loam in her hand upon the coffin. She leaned her had against his shoulder, a small reminder that she was there and understood. Finally, with a shaking hand, he unclenched his fist, the dark particles showering down into the grave. Last came Jensen and Jared in the full dress of state. Taking a deep and shuddering breath, they scattered the soil on the final resting place of their beloved friend. She had returned to the soil that nurtured her.

Dust to dust.

_________________

The Republican Archives cut an imposing figure in Celestus’ skyline. Tall, straight of line, and seemingly hewn from obsidian, it rose for hundreds of meters. The only edifice in the worlds to have been painstakingly renovated, instead of razed, its infrastructure replaced to accommodate upward expansion. The reason for such difficult efforts lay deep within. Vast vaults held small stasis cubes, each holding an irreplaceable artifact from the first millennium of the Republic, and no small assortment from Terra. The Magna Carta, the Dead Sea Scrolls, the Constitution of the United States and more legendary texts than could be counted lay in state within, their fragile paper leaves protected from decay. Two figures, in long black robes, walked purposefully toward the massive structure. 

The building had few windows, the interior passageways dimly lit. Purified and treated atmosphere filled every corner, a preventative of decay for the documents. The darkness and its effect on those who worked in it had spawned the colloquialism “pale as a Pontifex.” The people they passed once inside the edifice only supported that stereotype.

They traversed corridor after corridor toward their destination. The secured lift admitted them without protest, depositing them in the upper floors of the building without so much as a blip on the security grid. The upper floors of the archive housed the eight Pontifices, their offices and their personal quarters. Some had homes off-site, but frequently stayed in the archive’s cloisters as their duties demanded. Others lived only in the archives, a monastic existence in harmony with the history of their title.

The corridors of the inner cloister, all in dark stone from floors to columns up to ogival arches, remained eerily silent. Even their footfalls did not reverberate off the high walls due to some acoustic trickery of the architecture. At the end of the long, empty hallway, they faced the floor to ceiling doors of the office they sought. The doors swung inward at their approach. Apparently, they were expected.

“Oh, yes! Do come in.” Once inside, they saw the man hunched over his enormous desk, apparently reading a scroll. As they got closer, he folded it back up, rose from his chair and walked toward them.

“You are a bit early, but you two have always been a few steps ahead of the game. Yes, let me look at you!” The wizened features of the Pontifex Maximus with his white, wild, flyaway hair, peered at them, looking for what, neither knew. 

“Yes, yes. Madam Edina did wonderfully well by both of you, didn’t she? Quite imposing and powerful-looking the two of you are.”

They were wearing their formal dress uniforms: solid Adept black, except for the royal blue piping and consisting of many layers. A high-collared shirt, then the waistcoat, buttoned up the side and to the shoulder covered in intricate embroidery in black silk thread, the inner coat which was a simpler affair, the lapels and sleeves set off in the blue piping. Finally, their outer coats hung long and heavily all the way to the floor, the back panel inset had more embroidery but this time it was a massive, complex representation of the phoenix seal. Their collars sat upon their shoulders, the enormous squared stones sparkling even in the sparse daylight of Tolliver’s private chambers. 

“You are most assuredly everything I could have hoped for and more,” he said amiably. “Just what we needed, I think. And in perfect time, too.”

“Pontifex,” Jensen began, his voice hard and cold. “This is not a social call, nor a sartorial inspection.”

“No, quite right,” the elderly man replied. “You no doubt have a long list of questions, and you deserve any explanation that I can offer.” He gestured for them to sit in the chairs facing his large desk. Tolliver sat and then stared off into the distance with a strange wistful expression upon his face. He looked as though a cascade of memories washed over him, most of them unpleasant. For a moment, Jensen and Jared wondered if he had forgotten they were there. He appeared to age, second by second, the weight of the past settling heavily on his bent frame. All of the exuberance with which he greeted them gone; he spoke softly, slightly more than a whisper.

“It was never about cloning. No, that was a fool’s errand. Wasteful. Doomed to failure. Not to mention a repulsive business. McNally’s madness blinded him, but it provided the very powerful lure needed, something that would appeal to those in power, draw them toward it. The potential extinction of our species drives people to do things they would never otherwise consider. The Tectractys coalesced around it. No, it was never about clones. It was always about you.”

Those bright, keen blue eyes fixed them in their gaze.

“Make no mistake; we are in the fight of our lives. You had the right of it when you said this war can only end with genocide. And you two are the only hope we have of surviving. But this victory, should we be able to attain it, will require more, cost more and hurt more than anything humanity has ever faced before. And even if we win, the battle to secure future generations doesn’t end there.

“I fear for you. I really have no idea how you will endure. I only know that you must. When this entire affair began, years before either of you entered the Academy, I had no idea what the end purpose would be. I only knew that at some point, two young men would emerge whose powers, when conflated, would fundamentally alter our prospects. Frankly, it took years before I would even believe that much to be true. But I dutifully prepared, as instructed. I have no delusion that I will be viewed as hero. No I am damned. But you, you exceeded all I had hoped for. The most difficult days, here toward the end, when I toyed with the idea of ending it all, I could think of you two and I knew I had to carry on.

“You see, every trial you underwent had to be precise, in timing and location, each one significantly more difficult than the one before. The attack on Utopia Planetia was I think the first. I find it terrifying and awe-inspiring that leaking the deflector specifications to the silicates some ten years before the attack could not have been delayed any further than a few days from when we sent it. Any later and you would not have been prepared for the attack here on Lyrea. I remember that day, my despair, that with that transmission, I could very likely have ended us all. But no, the silicates received it at the precise right moment. Of course, I couldn’t have known that at the time. Just like I could not know that the transmission would be received or understood. The time delay really was onerous. Only a month or so before I had to send the next message for another event ten years in the future. It required more guile than I ever thought I could possibly possess to sabotage the graviton generators, but the attack on the Academy required it. 

“You must understand that I have no skill at tactics. Certainly, I possess nothing like foresight. No, I did as instructed. Which of course is no excuse. The events had to move in a precise sequence, timed just right. Too quickly, you wouldn’t be prepared. Too slowly, and vital windows of opportunity would be missed. Thankfully, I had no part in that intricate orchestration. For that, I am grateful. I fool myself into believing it lessens the blood on my hands.

“Once you had successfully vanquished the attack ship above the Academy, all depended on the next step. So very much at stake. The death of your friend was not planned. No, I deeply regret that. Had I been more active in the planning of the kidnapping, perhaps I could have intervened. Though to have been more involved would have jeopardized everything. Truthfully, I had not expected the two of you to be separated. None of us did, but once again, the plan worked. With each ordeal, you became stronger. Much stronger. You see, the entirety of this most recent horror distills down to one thing, a single change that can save us all.”

“Fold-space,” Jared whispered.

“Yes. I knew you would tumble to that sooner rather than later. Even if the war is won tomorrow, humanity’s course is still set toward extinction. So long as we are hobbled by the limits of the FTL conduits, we will be restricted to this one, tiny corner of the cosmos. Eventually, the violence of our universe will wipe us out. But if we could spread across the vastness of space, our survival will be assured. You will give us that. I do not know the hows or the whys, but I know that you will. Unfortunately, one obstacle remains. And, I am sad to say, it is the most difficult one yet. You will either be destroyed by it, or you will emerge stronger than you were before. Precisely as you have done every step of the way. What a harrowing road this has been.

“Oh I feared terribly for you both. I still do, though my part in this play is done. I find it strange, this ability to shed the concerns for the species as a whole and replace it entirely with concerns for you. Though, I suppose your success is the only way our race will continue. So much is at stake and the weight of it falling on shoulders so young. I regret so many things. This odious burden has plagued me waking and sleeping for decades. To know that, at least for me, it is at an end. I would say it is a relief, but no, it isn’t. It will be the albatross around my neck for however many hours I have left to me. I suppose I would have gone as mad as McNally had I not had the vicarious pleasure of watching the two you grow and shine. Yes, soon I will rest. It cannot come quickly enough.”

“No, I will not be alive to see you face that last test, but you have grown more powerful than I could have ever imagined. You will do well, I think. I can only guide you one last time. Those baubles you wear. Study the commendation carefully. I built into it everything you would need, for the war and beyond. You have the power and the authority to do what needs be done. 

“I spent my life studying and preserving history and yet, I only wish to be omitted from it. I am a villain of the worst sort. Maybe, if my name should survive oblivion, maybe some might understand why I did what I did. I suppose it is too much to ask. I will have to go to my rest knowing I did what was required of me, even though no one else will likely see it that way. You, however, my dear boys, will be long remembered. Revered, I think. You will walk the golden path before humanity, and they will follow you. Yes, that is enough for me. It has to be.”

The Archons sat in stunned silence, uncertain how to wrap their minds around all they had heard. Finally, Jensen seized on one detail. “You said you were following orders. If you aren’t Pythagoras, who is?”

“Oh, my boy, I am the man behind Pythagoras, have no doubt. I hesitate to tell you this, because it sounds outlandish even to my ears, but I suspect you might understand. The invisible hand that has guided all of this, that used me to facilitate its plan, I can only describe it as a voice. It had no substance that I could determine. No, it was the strangest voice, too. Like choirs, but the sounds were not words, they somehow translated directly into thoughts. It is that voice I have loyally obeyed. I can only hope, in time, that loyalty will be proved well-placed.”

_________________

With a thought, the high stone walls of the Archives became the bright blue sky over the Academy. The bright sunlight could not have been a more startling contrast to the darkness form which they had just emerged. They walked slowly toward where their friends and family were waiting. The confrontation with Tolliver had left them shaken. The only decision they had been able to make afterward was to keep Jeffrey ignorant of the deeds of his beloved mentor. Tolliver would die soon. Even as he spoke, they had watched as his life force ebbed slowly away. They didn’t care to guess how long it would take him to pass, but he eagerly sought death. They would not interfere.

The building which held their quarters for the past year and not much else, had become a hive of activity. Now they had a sprawling suite of rooms, from a dining area to a study to offices and conference rooms. Samantha and Jeffrey had determined the necessity of these changes to match their new ranks. Guest quarters for families and visitors had been prepared, and Samantha had outfitted a room adjacent to theirs for Brylan. 

The metabolic damage done to the boy in McNally’s haste had, thankfully, been undone. They saw no reason why the child should not life a long, full life. He would require a great deal of support and help to deal with the atrocities of his short life thus far, but as the door to the newly created common room opened, Jensen and Jared were greeted by the sight of Tom, Mike, Chris and Raidon wrestling with Brylan on the floor of the living room. Their mothers, and most of the other females in the room, watched with fond expressions. Brylan was clearly winning, having pinned Chris to the floor by the mere act of sitting on his back. The boy’s laughter filled the room, and that alone helped drive away the shadows of the day. 

Brylan turned suddenly and cried out, “Jensen! Jared! I beat up Chris!”

They laughed and gladly accepted welcome hugs. His three seconds of attention to his benefactors fulfilled, he dove back into the dog pile. Jensen and Jared moved to a sideboard off to the side that held refreshments, and grabbed something to drink. 

Erica and Nazomi came to join them. 

“I have to say, you both dress up nice,” Erica smirked at them.

“I must protest any man who has nicer jewelry than me,” Nazomi prodded them, fingering the Jared’s collar.

The four of them leaned against the wall, watching the rigorous contest, which Bry was still winning. The only thing that pleased them better than the boy’s laughter was seeing Raidon laughing as well.

“He will be okay,” Jensen whispered to her.

“I know,” she replied. “I fear that he has lost more than the woman he loved, though.”

“Not lost,” Jared assured her. “Changed. We have all been changed by this.”

Sasha called out for one them to please bring her a drink, and Erica and Nazomi both responded. Jensen and Jared stood for a few minutes, and then moved even further back into the room. The revelations of the afternoon had left them reeling. They needed time to process. 

Morgan looked around for them, spotting them in the back. He raised an eyebrow in question, and apparently, the wan smiles he received assured him not one bit. He stood and slowly walked toward his charges, his boys, returned to him once more.

“I take it your errand went well?” he asked.

“‘Well’ isn’t the word I think I would use to describe it, no,” Jensen answered dryly. 

“Trouble?”

“We found what we were looking for, and more than we ever wanted.”

Now Morgan looked concerned.

“What’s going on?”

The Archons exchanged meaningful looks, and decided that if they would not share with their friend all they had learned, they should at least share the very last thing Tolliver said to them.

“We have a great deal of work to do and we have about three years to prepare.” Jared said, cryptically.

Morgan stood stock still and waited for an explanation.

“They are coming.” 


End file.
